A Thing of Beauty
by stuphanie
Summary: Lillian is new to Bluebell and liking her new life - only she is struggling to settle in and it seems there is someone who doesn't want her there. Her dark past haunting her at every turn, there is a lot to get used to. Rated T but may be changed to M in later chapters.
1. The Beginning

**Chapter One**

All she remembered before she blacked out was a mountain. Flashes of green and a distorted reality came to her mind, one where the sky was the ground, and the ground was the sky, revolving about her head as she tumbled down the mountainside. Suddenly, sharp, grey shapes pushed their way in; one of them invading its way into her arm. Tiny, like shrapnel, whilst a larger one collided with her head. This place was out to get her already, she decided. Her loyal white pony had bolted, free from between the bars of the carriage, the sound of its hooves beating out a rhythm the last she heard.

_Thud-thud, thud, thud-thud_.

There it was again. Had her horse come back for her?

No – the ground around her felt different now. More… soft, and clean. Lillian tried to prise her eyes open, the echo of hooves dissipating to the back of her mind. An assortment of smells assaulted her nostrils: disinfectant and medicines. Smells she had come to hate, for various reasons. They were too familiar, and not in the way that brought her comfort.

"I think she's waking up," a voice, a woman, said from far away.

Twitching her fingers as if to urge the rest of her body to awaken, Lillian's eyes finally cracked, allowing in a tiny chink of blinding light. She blinked rapidly to accustom her surroundings. Someone was bent over her, smiling, and very much relieved.

"Hi, Lillian," said the woman softly. "I'm Ayame. Do you know where you are?"

The fact that this woman knew Lillian's name was not something the latter immediately concerned herself with.

"No," croaked out Lillian. She was surprised at how hoarse her voice was. Her eyes latched on to two people at the foot of her bed. They were glaring at each other, obviously having a disagreement of some sort, though evidently attempting to push away their differences now the invalid had woken up.

"You're in the clinic in Konahona," explained Ayame, opening Lillian's eyes and shining a torch into them. "If you would follow me finger with your eyes, please." Lillian obeyed, and the doctor looked pleased. "I think she will be just fine."

Ayame addressed the two other people, who looked relieved. Odd, thought Lillian, considering she had never met them before.

"What happened?" she asked now.

"You had a fall," said one of the two people. A man stepped forward. He had a blond moustache and kind face. His eyes were crinkled in the corners, which gave Lillian the impression he laughed a lot. "You were on your way to your new farm… but, don't you remember where you were supposed to live?" he added, brow wrinkling in concern when Lillian merely gazed at him impassively.

All she knew was that she was indeed looking for a fresh start, but the fall… It had erased a lot of information.

"I am Rutger, mayor of Bluebell Town, and –"

He was interrupted by the other woman with whom he had argued with. She had flawless olive skin and donned a headscarf that brought out the colour of her eyes. Even though she, too, was remotely friendly looking, it was obvious that she was not a person to cross.

"Now look here!" she exploded angrily. "Don't you start your waffle about how Bluebell is the best village –"

"That's where you are wrong, Ina!" Rutger had turned a brilliant shade of red. "Bluebell may have its faults but it is surely the better of the two!"

Lillian watched them in slight horror as Ina launched into a tirade about this Bluebell town and how this Konahona was apparently better. Ayame frowned at them disapprovingly, though seemed to think better of intervening as she took Lillian's pulse.

"Well, I think we should let Lillian decide!"

The young girl in question snapped her head up at being addressed so directly and suddenly. Her eyes darted back and forth between the two mayors, feeling awful to decide, but knew she must do so.

And so, the difficult decision had begun.

* * *

Bluebell had prevailed.

Lillian moved into her new farm the following day, having been shown around by a rather cheerful, and albeit slightly smug, Rutger. The man was friendly enough, though vague on the details, leaving most of it up to Lillian to figure out. He departed with a cheery wave whilst a bemused Lillian began to unpack her belongings.

Her pony, Pip, had found his way back. It had transpired that a young man named Kana had found the animal sweating and rather distressed on Konahona's side of the mountain. Kana had delivered Pip back that morning and, with a quick glance at Kana's wide shoulders and muscled arms, Lillian found herself wishing she had chosen to stay in Konahona.

Most of her belongings were unmarred although held signs of being thrown about the wagon rather a lot: her garments, after being so meticulously packed, were strewn about and underwear found itself wrapped around her notebook; her tins of food were dented; dresses that lay flat now had creases in them, and basically everything was everywhere. But, she had to remind herself, she was healthy now, and at least none of her possessions had been lost. It was difficult to take pleasure in small things such as this considering she was far, far away from home, practically in the middle of nowhere, and knew nobody in the town except for Rutger. Although, as the mayor who had a duty to know everyone, he didn't particularly count.

Lillian finished assembling her meagre possessions and, after quickly scanning the bookshelf, departed into town. Bluebell town square was not particularly difficult to find; it was, as Rutger had said, literally around the corner. The first shop she came to stated that it sold animals. Knowing that she was here with a purpose to be a good farmer, Lillian strolled through the shop door, albeit more confidently than she felt. She had only little money from what she could scrape together from her old home. It was doubtful that she would even be able to buy a chicken with this.

As soon as Lillian stepped over the shop threshold, someone screeched jubilantly.

"Mama!" a little girl cried, hopping up and down on the spot as if she were on a pogo stick.

"What is it, Cheryl?" asked a harassed-looking woman exasperatedly, coming from around the corner.

"Mama, this is the new girl mayor Rutger was telling everyone about!" The girl named Cheryl ran up to Lillian, smiling delightedly. "You are, aren't you?"

Even if she weren't, Lillian would have felt awful denying this girl something she had been so desperate to discover.

"I – I am," came Lillian's nervous reply. Subconsciously, she fiddled with the hem of her dress, as she always did when she felt embarrassed or awkward.

"Oh, how wonderful," cooed the woman, making her way over. "You must be Lillian. I'm Jessica, and you have already met my daughter, Cheryl."

"P-pleasure to meet you," stuttered Lillian. Man alive, she wished this stupid stutter would go away when she got nervous. They were only people, like her! What was the big deal?

"I hear you're trying to fix up that decrepit old farm outside of town?" enquired Jessica, writing something down in a notebook. Fortunately, she didn't notice the brief look of irritation that flitted across Lillian's face.

"Yes, ma'am, I am."

Jessica laughed. "Please, call me Jessica! 'Ma'am' is my mother-in-law." She finished scrawling on the piece of paper and shut the book. "From a farmer to another farmer, I wish to give you a housewarming present."

Lillian looked on, dumbfounded – even more so when Jessica led her to the back of the shop and to the animals she owned, tethering a cow and bringing it over. Surely a housewarming present was a pretty vase or something, not a cow?

"For you," declared Jessica happily. She chuckled at Lillian's bemused face. "Ash, could you come out here?"

From the barn exited a young man, perhaps slightly older than Lillian, and, she couldn't help noticing, rather cute. He flashed Lillian a smile before turning to his mother.

"Yeah, ma?" he asked, wiping his hands on his trousers.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Jessica told him sternly. "Anyway, this is Lillian, she's the new girl in the village. Lillian, this is Ash, my son."

Ash made a low bow and smiled at her again.

"Could you be a lamb and help Lillian take a chicken and feed to her farm?"

Lillian could hardly believe her ears. _Two_ free animals?

"Why are you doing this for me?" she asked quietly, not noticing the cow sniffing around her feet.

"Oh, honey, it's what people do in this town! We look out for each other!" Jessica smiled warmly. "These two should be enough to get you started for now. Chickens lay eggs once a day, and cows can be milked once a day. I sell other animals too if you're looking to expand. Got all that?"

Lillian nodded dazedly. "T-thank you," she stammered. "I c-can't believe everyone in this town is so n-nice."

Tears pricked her eyes. She tried to blink them away, but perhaps Jessica had noticed, for she had wrapped a comforting arm around the young girl.

"We're here if you need anything, okay?" she told her quietly. Lillian nodded against her shoulder. "Ash, how about that chicken?" she added, turning to her son and successfully covering up the emotional moment, for which Lillian was grateful.

Lillian followed Ash back to her farm, leading her cow on a length of rope. She decided to call the cow Bessie and chicken Coco, quite pleased with her name choices. The farm had blatantly seen better days: paint on the house had begun to peel, whilst the barn and chicken coop had begun to crumble in places, and the overgrown grass easily long enough to tickle one's knees. It would take a lot of hard work, she knew, and, as a city-born girl, she would have to learn on the job.

"Everyone in town is really friendly," Ash was saying as they led Bessie to barn and placed fodder in a feed box. "There's our store that sells animals and such, then Eileen who will do upgrades and repairs for your farm, the town hall, the café, the general store, the church, uh…" Ash scratched his chin whilst he racked his brains for other notable places in town. "Oh, and Grady's. He has horses, dogs, cats, all sorts really."

Lillian had been nodding along to everything he said, though not entirely taking it all in. It was a lot to remember. On the way out, she gave Pip a grateful pat, then made her way to the chicken coop.

"I could give you a tour if you like," Ash offered, leaning against the door jamb whilst Lillian familiarised herself with the farm. He fiddled with his braces shyly and averted his eyes from Lillian's.

The idea was tempting – but considering she had barely said five words to him, wondered if it would make the situation more awkward. She usually found things better on her own anyway, yet when she spotted the flush creeping up on Ash's neck, felt obliged to agree.

"Okay then," she replied.

Ash looked jubilant as Lillian followed him back into town again.

* * *

Jessica hadn't lied. All the townsfolk were exceedingly friendly. To be honest, it grated on Lillian after a while, having everyone smiling widely and talking with such genuine enthusiasm. She had been used to city people who rarely cracked a smile on a good day, and now she found herself surrounded by people who did the exact opposite.

Well, except for one.

Cam owned the flower stand outside Howard's café – the latter of whom had taken an immediate shine to Lillian right away – and spent such effort meticulously arranging bouquets into the most beautiful collection of flowers anyone had ever seen. He brooded a lot, too, Lillian noticed. The irritated look on his face when she introduced herself said a thousand words. And yet, she could not bring herself to like or dislike him. In a way he was far more interesting than the other townsfolk: he did not have a permanent smile plastered on his face, but his moody demeanour made her nervous. At least he had been gracious enough to spare her and Ash a brief conversation before returning to his work, so he couldn't be all bad, yet Lillian could not help the distinct feeling that he had taken an instant dislike to her, a newcomer.

Back on her farm, Lillian wasted no time in getting stuck in to her work. Ash had departed with a brief wave and smile, for which she was happy about. She wanted to get the farm looking neat and tidy as soon as possible. It wasn't that she hated having company; she just preferred to be on her own. It was what she was used to, after all.

It took nearly all afternoon to cut the knee-high grass. By the time she had finished, Lillian found herself to be sweating profusely down the back of her dress, but had produced satisfactory results. The grass had been cut, at least, and including the half an hour it took for her to become acquainted with sickle, was better than she could have hoped for. Wiping perspiration from her forehead, Lillian leant against the pasture fence, watching the blood red sun set over the hills. Idly, she found her mind drifting back to the events of the day. Several faces popped into her mind, moving past the grinning face of Ash, finally landing on Cam. Her stomach jolted uncomfortably when she thought about him. They had not said more than a few introductory words to each other, and yet, she thought to herself as she entered her house, she could not think why it was him who weighed so heavily on her mind.

Perhaps because he was different, the mysterious boy of the town which every girl wanted to know. Suddenly, Lillian wondered how many girls had tried and failed to crack that tough exterior of his, desperate to see the soft inside. How romantic would it be if she, Lillian, were the one to succeed! Or, she concluded, it was how he disliked her first, something that irritated her beyond belief.

"Load of fairy-tale bullshit," she found herself murmuring out loud as she drew herself a hot bath.

She mulled this over in the hot water for some time, before finally climbing out of her bath only when the water and turned cold and darkness fell outside, and shook her head at the absurdity of it all. She was not prepared to chase a brooding boy who so obviously did not want to be chased – that wasn't how she was – all for the sake of romance. And she, of all people, knew that life was no fairy-tale.


	2. Cold

**Chapter Two**

Lillian's hard work on the farm had only just begun. It transpired that there was a lot more to do in order for the place to be fit for inhabitation: the hornet's nest hiding in the corner of the rafters in the chicken coop and the land to be tilled, to name but just a couple. Eventually, she threw her hoe down in irritation, stalking back into the house for a wash, where she then threw on a casual outfit and rode Pip into town.

Rutger and Rose passed her on the way in, waving and calling out a friendly greeting, which she returned albeit half-heartedly. In the heat of the morning sun, Lillian could already feel the back of her neck begin to burn.

"Hey, Lillian!"

She pulled Pip to a halt and looked round wildly. Her eyes finally came to rest on an enthusiastic Ash, waving from the patch of land behind his mother's store. Lillian dismounted and made her way over to him, feeling it would be rather rude if she did not do so, given what Ash and his mother had done for her so far.

"H-hi," she said awkwardly, in a much higher pitched voice than usual. She cleared her throat and scuffed the ground with her shoes.

"How's it going?" asked Ash conversationally, completely oblivious to her usual awkward shyness.

"Good, thanks for asking."

"You looked like you've been hard at work today," he grinned, nodding to a smudge of dirt on her cheek she had missed.

Embarrassed, she wiped it away rather hurriedly. "Just trying to get started, you know?"

"Ah, I know," he agreed. "You could visit Gombe over in Konahona for seeds if you needed to. We don't sell them here, our main focus is animals."

"Oh." For some reason, Lillian felt like she had done something wrong, despite Ash's gentle tone of voice, then remembered the animosity between the two villages. "I think I'll go another day…" Her voice trailed off into nothingness as Ash seemed momentarily distracted by something behind her.

"Morning, Cam!" he called, tipping his hat as Cam passed.

Lillian's stomach somersaulted when she turned round and saw the florist stop dead in his tracks at this greeting. His hat was pulled low over his eyes, his hazel hair sweeping casually to one side. For some strange reason, Lillian felt the powerful urge to card her hand through his soft-looking tresses, letting the strands filter through her fingers. She frowned to try and rid herself of this odd desire, only then to realise that Cam thought she was frowning at him. After holding his hand up to return the greeting Ash sent, he carried on walking, his hands deep in his pockets and looking distinctly grumpier than he did before.

"Oh dear," murmured Lillian, more to herself. Way to make a good impression.

Ash laughed. "I wouldn't worry about him, if I were you. I think he tries to look surly just to impress the ladies."

Lillian's stomach flipped again. "Is that true?" she couldn't help wonder.

"I've told him so several times," mused Ash, scratching his chin in a thoughtful manner and leaning on the fence. Even though the wooden pickets separated them, Lillian liked how they were slightly closer together than they were before.

"I bet he loved that."

He grinned. "Not particularly. Although he's never shown much interest in girls… or boys… He doesn't have interest in much apart from his flowers. That doesn't mean to say he doesn't like the attention though."

Immediately, Lillian felt pleased with herself that she hadn't shown any interest toward Cam. Her assumption of him had been right, and she was even more glad that she hadn't been too friendly with him either. Of course he would like the attention! What male wouldn't? For a moment, she felt annoyed, as if Cam would lead these people on without the intentions of reciprocating any shared feelings.

"Are you okay?" Ash asked, concerned. "You drifted off for a second then."

"Hmm? Oh, no, I'm fine," she assured him with a smile. "Just – just trying to think of ways I can, um, build up my farm, get money, you know."

"Try the mountain," he suggested, "there's lots of things growing up there."

She smiled warmly at him, inwardly glad that her stutter had stopped and she had thought up of something to cover the moment. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it." He returned her smile and she felt her knees weaken slightly. "Anyway, if you'll excuse me, my mom will tan my hide if I don't get back to work."

With a tip of his hat, he returned to caring for his animals, leaving Lillian to wander the hills. She decided to take Pip back to her farm and leave him there. After her accident, she was not keen for any more horse-riding across the mountain just yet. Instead, she set off on foot, packing a couple of pieces of fruit in a piece of cloth to take with her, along with a wicker basket. Truly, the view was amazing; stretches of green for as far as the eye could see, the sides of the paths adorned with clumps of wildflowers, shadows of fish visible on the surface of shallow waters. If anyone told her that there was a more beautiful place, she would not have believed them. Compared to the wet, grey city where she had come from, this place was positively an Eden.

Lillian managed to find several healthy bamboo shoots and clusters of raspberries rather easily. She placed them delicately in her basket, ready to be shipped, and decided to wallow in the shallows of the lake. The sun had reached its peak in the sky, so she could only assume that it was around mid-afternoon. With her skirt tucked up around her legs, she sat on the soft grass, her feet in the water and dug into a ripe peach. Juice dribbled down her chin whilst cool water lapped over her feet. For the first time in a long time, she felt happy and at peace with the world, and the horror of her past did not claw at her, begging to be remembered.

She sat there for some time, eating the rest of her fruit and watching people walk by on the path, then giggling at the tickle of small fish nibbling on her toes. It was nice to be alone. She liked that best. She lay back on the grass, looking up at the sky, tilting her head this way and that, attempting to make out forms in the clouds. In the end, however, she was resigned to just seeing them as they were: shapeless and white.

The sun began to set, swathing Lillian in a warm orange glow and casting long shadows. It was rather relaxing, lying here, the grass mingling with her russet hair and the water at her feet. Before she knew it, her eyes had closed, and she had drifted into a light sleep…

* * *

"Hey, wake up."

Something nudged Lillian's side. Something gentle, but firm enough to rouse her.

"Hey." The person spoke again, louder. With a groan, she opened her eyes. Night had fallen now. Cicadas chirped and sang, and the once pleasantly cool water that had surrounded her feet now made her feel as if they had been dunked in ice. The air no longer held any warmth. Shivering, she sat up, pulling her numb feet away from the cold. Through the gloom, a face was barely discernable.

"Come on, you need to go home."

It was Cam. She hadn't heard his voice enough to recognise it straight away. It was his piercing green eyes that gave him away. With strong arms he pulled her up into a standing position.

"W-w-what are y-y-you d-doing here?" she asked, her teeth chattering uncontrollably. Cam took off his waistcoat and laid it around her shoulders.

"On my way back home," he replied shortly. "Come on; I'm surprised you aren't frozen."

Lillian tried to walk, but with difficulty. Even with her shoes back on, it seemed like someone had removed her feet and replaced them with ice blocks.

"Come on," he repeated, more irritably. "Stop being so stubborn."

He took her upper arm but she wrenched out of his grasp. "D-don't tell me w-what to d-do."

He sighed and let her attempt to walk on her own. It was painstakingly slow.

"Maybe now you will have learned your lesson about falling asleep outdoors," he told her.

It was rather like she was an errant child, and he a long-suffering parent. This comparison brought tears to her eyes. Unfortunately, Cam noticed.

"Oh, you aren't crying, are you?" He sounded exasperated. "I was only saying it for your own good."

"Since when have you c-c-cared about my own g-good?" she retorted. She didn't want to tell him it wasn't him who had upset her. She had remembered – and she hated remembering.

"I don't," came the brusque reply. "Just keep moving, you need to get blood circulating again, and you'll warm up."

"So why d-did you wake me?"

"I wasn't saying that I'm completely heartless," he corrected her. "I couldn't watch you freeze to death. Let's try and move faster, shall we?"

In a swift movement, he took her hand in his, and felt heat creep up his body. Her fingers encased his easily, and were soft and delicate, definitely not the hands for a farmer or manual labour. Despite his less-than-warm feelings towards her, there was something pleasant about holding her hand. A connection, of some sort, to another human being. He didn't have feelings for her – in fact, he rather got the impression she disliked him in some way, considering the frown he had received from her earlier. Even though they barely knew each other, it was still unpleasant for such a pretty girl to wear such an ugly expression directed at him. A foreign concept was what it was, yet he couldn't help but feel he was marginally to blame considering the cold welcome she had received from him. All those girls that had come his way, and yet Lillian had not… He was almost wary of her. Though, after watching people around him suffer the repercussions of heartbreak, the aspect of love, or affection for another, scared him. It was – and had been for a very long time – undesirable.

Now, he glanced sideways at Lillian. She still walked stiffly, thought appeared to have warmed up. She did not notice the calculating look Cam now gave her.

"What were you doing in up in the mountain?" he asked her now.

"None of your business," she said loftily, although there was nothing of importance for her to hide. Her basket swung off one arm, her forgotten finds rolling about the bottom.

"I was being friendly."

"Oh, so that is possible for you then? What's your next hat trick – a smile?" she quipped, her pace quickening.

Cam remained silent. She truly was a mystery. Thought she had begun walking faster, her hand had not left his, and he had the shrewd suspicion that she enjoy the contact, too. It had been a long time since he had held hands with a girl such as this, and he started to wonder what he had been so afraid of. Lillian, on the other hand, was becoming increasingly nervous, her heart beating erratically under her bosom. She was actually holding hands with a boy, for the first time! Admittedly, a boy that she could not bear at the moment, but the point still stood.

"Hold on."

After their long silence and shorter walk, they had arrived at the shipping bin. Hastily, Lillian tipped in her day's findings, slightly crestfallen about letting go of Cam's hand. She did not take it again as they entered the boundaries of her farm.

"Well, this is me," she announced, strolling with purpose to her house. Cam lingered behind for a moment. "What?"

"You… still have my waistcoat," he said pointedly, moving towards her.

"Oh." She shook it from her shoulders and passed it to him, noticing that the moonlight bathed him in a flattering glow. "Th-thanks." She struggled with the word for a moment. Saying it meant pleasantries, civil acquaintances, of which they were not, yet she could not be ungrateful for what he had done.

He nodded and turned to leave, Lillian walking back to her house.

"Maybe next time you'll invite me in?" he called across to her.

She snorted loudly. "Don't get your hopes up!" she hollered in return without even a backwards glance. She closed the door with a slam.

Cam couldn't help but smirk to himself. He had said it once and he would say it again: the girl was a mystery.

* * *

Lillian watched Cam turn away through the window. She waited until he was out of sight before she undressed. Fortunately, she had warmed up considerably now, yet could not wait to climb between the inviting sheets of her bed. It continued to baffle her why he had taken it upon himself to wake her and walk her home… Though on the other hand, he was not heartless like he said, even though he did not appear to care for her overall wellbeing, which was fine with her. The idea of it made her insides squirm uncomfortably – but so did the thought of Cam. Indeed, he was attractive, she admitted to herself grudgingly, but looks weren't everything. Perhaps if he weren't so rude they would get along better, yet the idea of striking up a friendship with him seemed alien. Ash was his best friend, she knew that, and the former was lucky to even coax a smile from him.

Ash's first impression had been a lot better. He was cute, too, Lillian decided, although his preppy demeanour had the potential to drain her after a while. Being happy was great, but Ash seemed too happy, and in the long run, she didn't think she could cope with extravagant optimism. All these thoughts were beginning to give her a headache.

"Boys!" she sighed exasperatedly as she slid under her duvet. Her nightdress hugged her body satisfactorily, thick socks adorning her feet, and before she knew it, had drifted into a deep sleep, much more comfortable than the one before.


	3. Questions About The Past

**Chapter Three**

Lillian had forgotten about Cam come the next morning and was only reminded of him the instant she threw open her front door, for he stood in front of her, swathed in the rays of the early morning sun.

"I've been knocking for half an hour," he told her, a bite of irritation in his voice, though his face remained impassive.

"I was taking a shower," she told him, and tried to keep herself from sounding apologetic. "What are you doing here?"

He moved back so she could step round him, then proceeded to the barn; whether he followed or not, she did not particularly care.

"Just checking you didn't die of hypothermia," he replied. He did not quite enter the barn but leant on the door jamb and watched Lillian attend her daily duties, supremely unconcerned about his presence.

"And now you know," she said flatly. She did a good job of avoiding his gaze as she filled Bessie's feed box and brushed her. After a moment of silence, she briefly dragged her eyes from her work, and gazed at Cam for a split second before looking away again. "I'm alive and well, what are you still doing here?"

"Watching you," he told her simply and proceeded to do so with an amused smirk on his face. "I'm not a farmer and even I know you are milking her wrong."

"Shove off, Cam," snapped Lillian, picking up the pail of milk. "I'm busy. Don't you have something better to do?"

"Nope." He took off his hat and ran a hand through his ruffled hair. "I don't open for a few more hours."

She snorted and barged by him to make her way to the chicken coop. "And you got up so early just for me – how nice of you."

He smirked at the sarcasm with which she spoke. He had never met anyone quite like her, and certainly not in this town; in his opinion, most of the citizens were too fake for their own good, maybe with Ash being one of the very few exceptions. Lillian certainly didn't trouble herself with what people thought of her – or was it just him? He knew she didn't like him, nor he her, but the sniping banter between them was moderately entertaining. He had not visited her under the pretence of concern for her health. Far from it. Somehow, he had found himself wandering the town square and down the dirt path to the mountain, before taking a sharp right and ending up on Lillian's farm. He thought back to when she first opened the door, her face soft, before hardening at the sight of him.

"Careful you don't drop those eggs," he told her as she picked up the two her hens had laid. Despite being on the farm a few short days, she hadn't wasted any time expanding the amount of animals she held.

Saying nothing, she flipped him off instead, stalking past him. In her haste, however, she tripped and fell forwards, dread registering on her face when she realised her daily haul was about to be ruined in less than five seconds. Suddenly and out of instinct, an arm shot out and grabbed her by the waist, preventing the impact on the ground and saving the eggs. Cam steadied her, and in between the narrow archway of the chicken coop, space between them was minimal.

Her russet hair tickled his face, loose curls looping over his shoulder. An intoxicating scent of flowers and musk assaulted his nose. He tried not to breathe too deeply as his stomach gave a sickening swoop.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

"I – I think so," she stammered, trying to recover from her fall. Their noses were only but a few inches apart, forest green eyes searching the depths of the blue that were framed with thick, dark lashes. Cam's arm was still snaked around her narrow body and she didn't want to pull away but found that she had to, for standing in such a position holding two eggs in her hands was becoming rather awkward.

"I should… you know…" She held up the eggs and instantly Cam's arm retracted.

"Oh, right, yeah." He cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck in an embarrassed manner.

"I need to set up the stall anyway…" he said, his voice trailing off, knowing that this job would only take a few minutes. The close contact with Lillian had knocked him for six. "See you around," he added, his brusque tone back in place again as he left without a backward glance.

He walked as fast as he could without running back into town. He could still smell Lillian's feminine scent, as if the aroma was lodged in his nose, refusing to dissipate. Back at his stall, Cam laid out his wares, hoping for a few customers to distract him from the one girl he could not stand yet desired at the same time. He recalled how delicate her body had felt when held in his muscled arm, and how easy it would have been to sweep her off her feet and carry her to her farmhouse, where –

No. Cam shook his head to rid himself of these thoughts. He did not want to desire anyone. Love wasn't worth it; this was something he had stood by since he was fourteen, a young age yet mature enough to know better, and he was now nineteen. In five years he hadn't formed a relationship with any girl, or boy – although, he was ashamed to admit, after masturbating profusely over images of girls he could, quite confidently, say that he was not gay. Five years had been enough for him to build up in impenetrable wall, where love would not enter, no matter how many times he had admired the way this girl wore her hair, or that girl laughed, or this other girl walked.

Perhaps this was why he found it difficult to make friends, too. His resilience for any tender feeling was commendable. Though this did not come without regret.

Lillian was different, more so in the way she displayed a cool attitude towards him. She didn't purposely flaunt her most attractive assets to him like several girls had done in the past. Maybe that was why she was so appealing. An image of her plump lips pushed its way into Cam's mind, the colour of crushed raspberries, slightly moist…

"Good morning, Cam, dear."

Cam was so glad that a distraction arrived in the form of Rose to the extent he could have hugged her. Dwelling on Lillian would do him no good.

"Morning, Rose. Anything I can help you with?" Grasping at the chance to think about his flowers again, he sounded much more cheery than usual.

"Just browsing, thank you," said the old lady. She proceeded to sniff delicately at a pink rose and missed the flicker of annoyance on Cam's face when she wouldn't buy anything. Really, what was the point in having this flower stand most of the time? He thought it would mainly be fussy elderly women like Rose who wanted bouquets to fill every square inch of their doily adorned homes. Apparently not.

As Cam slipped back into his usual moody demeanour and idly organised his precious flowers, a blur of auburn caught his attention some few metres away.

Lillian was collecting requests from the board. She appeared to skim them quickly, then stow them in her satchel. Eileen was passing and the two made polite chitchat, exchanged smiles, and were on their way. Lillian had not so much as looked in Cam's direction yet, and it was doubtful that she wasn't aware of his presence. He watched her out of the corner of his eye and waited for the opportune moment to send a wave her way. She did not, however, and backtracked through the town square, her hair rippling with every step she took.

Cam watched her go, an odd sensation forming in the pit of his stomach.

* * *

Lillian had successfully completed her requests for the day, the final one taking her to Ash's store, where Cheryl required a handful of crickets. The young girl grasped at the box excitedly, holding it up to hear ear and giggling at the chirping coming from the inside.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" she squealed, thrusting a reward of feed into Lillian's hands. Fortunately, the exchange of bugs had occurred whilst Jessica had not been in the room, much to Lillian's relief. She didn't want to be held responsible for any trouble-making Cheryl got into.

As Lillian turned to go, Ash and his mother entered the store.

"What a pleasant surprise!" Jessica cried. "How's the farm getting on?"

"Really well, thanks," smiled Lillian. "Bessie is happy and I've got crops growing everywhere now."

"Glad to hear it." Jessica beamed and made her way into the kitchen. "You'll stay for a cup of tea, won't you?"

Lillian dithered, the weight of the feed heavy in her arms. "I should get this back…"

"Nonsense, Ash will help you – won't you?" she added with a meaningful look at her son.

"Course I will." Ash shrugged off his jacket and hung it up, then taking the feed from Lillian and setting it on the counter. "Come on, you've been non-stop all day, you need a break!"

With three pairs of eyes staring at her and waiting for her reaction, she finally relented, sinking into a chair at the table. Jessica poured four steaming mugs of tea and set down a platter of shortbread biscuits in the middle of the table.

"Do have something to eat, dear, you've been working too hard, especially with all those requests on top of everything else," clucked Jessica, now handing over a plate of eggs on toast each for Lillian and Ash.

Awkwardly, Lillian accepted, only just realising how hungry she actually was. It was nice to be fussed over for once. They exchanged farm stories, with Ash explaining how they came to Bluebell.

"Mom and dad separated," he explained, taking a huge gulp of fortifying tea. "And we wanted a fresh start, and Mom knew her way around a farm, so we came here."

"That's right," chipped in Jessica, who was now washing dishes in the sink. "We're a lot happier now, too."

Cheryl had been sat on the floor playing with toys but looked up as her mother said this. She grinned toothily before sticking out her tongue and blowing a wet raspberry.

"Come on, time for bed."

Jessica swooped down and lifted her daughter before she could escape under the kitchen table.

"Nooooo not yet!" Cheryl whined loudly. "I want to stay up late like Ash!"

"Too bad you're not old enough." Ash tugged her pigtails affectionately as Jessica passed by them. Cheryl was not amused. They could hear her complaining as she dressed for bed.

"If you go to bed quietly now, I'll read you a bed time story," a weary Jessica finally conceded.

"Promise?"

"Promise, promise."

Squealing, Cheryl dressed into her pyjamas and, without further ado, settled herself into bed. Now, the sound of Jessica's gentle voice carried around the house as she read to her.

"She's usually really well behaved," explained Ash, "I think she's just showing off because you're here."

Lillian chuckled. "As children do."

Ash grinned, and she liked how easily he smiled. "So, how did you come to Bluebell, then?"

Her stomach plummeted. "I – I had an accident, and –"

"No, I meant, before that. What made you want to come here?"

Here was a topic she was less than enthusiastic to pursue. Dark images swarmed her mind. After all this time, she hadn't forgotten, and wished with all her heart she could. But she couldn't not give Ash an answer.

"Same as you really," she said, her throat dry. "I wanted a fresh start…"

Ash opened his mouth to speak but Lillian stood up suddenly when she realised she couldn't do this. "I should get back, it's getting late."

He got out of his chair also, yet was stopped halfway up when she spoke again.

"I should be able to manage the feed myself, it's not much…" With some effort, Lillian hoisted it in her arms, before flashing Ash a warm smile. "We should do this again sometime. I'll see you around?"

She left the question hanging in the air as she left, disregarding Ash's look of confusion, and set off at a fast pace to her farm. It was dark, and she hated the dark. The subject which she was most unwilling to discuss had been thrust upon her; rather like she knew it would have been.

She cursed herself angrily as she entered the barn. This was exactly why she despised forming close bonds with people. It meant trust, it meant they asked questions, and it meant that she felt obliged to answer them, even if she didn't want to. She had had friends, of course, back in the city, where she left her old life behind, shutting the memories of the people there away in a dark box in the back of her mind, never to be opened again. Ash and his family were nice enough, but Lillian couldn't bear it if they found out about her past, and seeing the looks of pity and perhaps revulsion on their faces… Maybe she was destined to live on this farm, alone, speaking to people only to exchange morning greetings.

But that was no way to live. Her politeness outweighed her wish for the greater good of being secluded from everyone else. Being lonely wasn't healthy for anyone.

As Lillian climbed into bed, she thought of Cam, and suddenly realised his stand-offish attitude.

Perhaps they had more in common than they thought.


	4. You're My Problem

**Chapter Four**

Lillian had been doing her utmost to avoid Cam all week – and Ash for that matter, yet the latter had somehow sought her out and struck up friendly conversation, despite her abrupt departure more than a week ago. The farmer didn't seem remotely abashed, and continued being as polite as always, though it hung between them, unspoken, that Lillian's reason for being here was a topic not to be touched upon. Even at the cooking festival, Lillian had kept a respectful distance between her and Cam, dashing off when gourmet Pierre had given his judgement.

Eventually, Lillian was coerced into accepting a request for Cam, after she had stupidly mentioned to Georgia that she had nothing to do that day.

"Why, y'all look here," the redhead had said, plucking the piece of yellow paper from the board. "Cam's got something for y'all. Why don't you check it out?"

Begrudgingly, Lillian took the request from her, perusing it when Georgia skipped off to check on her horses. So, Cam required three small killifish, did he? She almost discarded the piece of paper before remembering that would be doing the town more bad than good. She didn't want to see him. She hated the way her stomach twisted in knots when she saw him, or how her tongue seemed to go numb when she spoke. It was pathetic, she thought angrily, trudging down to the shallows of the mountain.

Pathetic, or strange? She had never experienced such a thing before and, as such, her feelings were all over the place and changed at the drop of a hat.

After some difficulty, Lillian caught her fish, the sun setting low in the sky. If she didn't hurry, she wouldn't catch Cam before he closed up shop, and he needed the fish today. Stowing her finds into the wicker basket she held on her arm, she ran back down the mountain, and only when she reached the town square did she slow to a walk. Mustn't look too eager, she thought to herself.

"Hey, Cam," she called in a would-be-casual voice as she saw the florist pack away his flower seeds. She smoothed her stray tendrils back into the headband she wore. "Something for you."

She handed the fish over to him, which he took in surprise.

"Wow, thanks for doing this for me," he said sincerely. For the first time in a week, he looked her in the eyes, drinking in the deep blue.

"Well, it wasn't just for you… I mean, I do the requests to help everybody," Lillian muttered, dropping her gaze and scuffing the ground with her shoe. Man alive, why did she have to blush now?

"Here's your reward," said Cam, ignoring her comment. He passed over a can of black tea. "It's tasty stuff. Howard swears by it."

For some reason, Cam, too, had begun to blush, and Lillian got the distinct feeling he wanted to say more but couldn't.

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him. "What?" she asked sharply, impatient now. She wanted to get home and water her crops before bed.

"I – I…" He trailed off, the apples of his cheeks pink. "I hope you enjoy your tea," he finished lamely, picking up the sandwich board that said _Cam's Flowers_ and tucking it under his arm. "See you around."

He left her standing there, bemused, and entered the safety of the café, away from Lillian and her stupidly pretty eyes.

Cam sat down to dinner with Howard and Laney that night, merely grunting his agreement here and there, toying with his penne pasta unenthusiastically, shrugging when Howard asked him what was wrong.

"If you will excuse me," Cam muttered halfway through dessert, ignoring the concerned looks both Howard and Laney gave him.

He slammed his door harder than intended and collapsed on the bed, laying on his back for a long time. He moved his position only to undress down to his smallclothes and climb between the sheets. The moon glowed brightly tonight, and Cam tossed and turned, unable to sleep, the image of Lillian's face burned into his eyelids and her floral scent etched into his brain.

* * *

"Damn it."

Cam had been attending to his flowers when Lillian had passed the statue in the town square. Her appearance had caught him unawares and his stomach twisted uncomfortably. He remembered when they had last spoke a few days back and the embarrassment he had felt when he tried to ask her out. Not so much as on a date, but more to hang out, take a walk perhaps, where they could talk for more than five minutes at a time. Yet they had barely held a civil tongue with each other, so he had chickened out nearly straight away.

He turned his back now, away from Lillian talking to Eileen, bunching up roses with wire. As usual, he didn't expect many customers today, so when someone spoke suddenly he jumped so that he pricked his finger on a rose thorn.

"Hey, Cam!"

It was Ash. He was looking particularly happy and leant against the counter in a casual fashion. "How's it going?"

Cam sucked his index finger and glared at his friend. "I was okay until you came butting in."

Remotely unabashed, Ash chuckled. "Sorry about that. Store's closed again today so I'm just trying to find something to do."

Cam didn't respond. At that moment, Lillian walked by, and he found his eyes lingering on her longer than was necessary. She was rather like a rose herself: pretty, yet dangerous if handled the wrong way. He continued to suck his finger, not realising that it had stopped bleeding now.

"Hello? Are you still with us?" Ash waved a hand in front of his friend's face. "What's wrong with you?"

Luckily, Cam pulled himself together, directing his attention elsewhere. "I'm fine."

Ash didn't look entirely convinced but didn't push the subject. "So, do you want to do something?"

"I have to work," came the irritated reply.

"Oh come on." Ash pushed Cam playfully, earning himself another glare. "You don't get many customers; why not shut early and we'll hang out on the mountain like we used to."

"Not today. I don't feel like it." What he meant was that he would rather not accidentally bump into Lillian, and he could count on Ash to drag him into a conversation with her.

Ash harrumphed but didn't look particularly annoyed. He was quiet for a second, gazing down pensively at the flowers for sale, before saying, "You know, you could make Lillian up a bouquet or something."

A fist clenched around Cam's insides. Did Ash know something he didn't? "And why would I do that?" he asked, a little too quickly, and a little too sharply.

Ash looked taken aback for a moment. "Just as a goodwill gesture, that's all. I've noticed that she always looks so sad when she thinks no one is looking. Have you?"

"No," Cam said honestly. In truth, he felt rather stupid that he hadn't, considering how much she had weighed on his mind, and he hadn't been perceptive enough to pick up on her mood or when her smile was fake. Although she never did smile much in his company, come to think of it.

"Yeah," Ash went on, "I asked her why she moved here and she just… clammed up. Must be something bad…"

"You didn't go on about it, did you?" Cam asked, his eyes shrewd, remembering his friend's complete lack of tact.

"No!" came Ash's indignant reply. "Contrary to popular belief I do know when to shut up sometimes."

Cam snorted sceptically. "I find that hard to believe."

Ash punched him on the arm playfully. "Seriously though, do something nice for her. I've already given her some milk to try from our best cow, and I know Kana made her some sweet dumplings the other day…"

Something bubbled up in the pit of Cam's stomach. Could it be… jealousy? The mere thought of Lillian talking to Kana, a rival in Bluebell, or any other boy that wasn't Ash – for Cam knew he only had pure intentions – made him mad. Images of Lillian tossing her long hair over her shoulder as she laughed, touching Kana's arm as he cracked jokes… It was almost too much to bear. Lillian irritated Cam, much like he did her, yet these contrasting feelings were beginning to override the negative.

"I think I will," Cam decided out loud, completely disregarding the rest of Ash's speech. His friend gawked at him, confused. "I'll take Lillian some flowers."

Ash looked jubilant. "Great idea. I'll leave you to it, then, and I'll see if Howard has got any soup left…"

With that, Ash entered the café, leaving Cam to assemble a bouquet of colourful flowers. The ensemble of red, white, blue and pink was beautiful, and, as he carried the flowers wrapped in pretty paper, felt rather proud of the end result. Nervousness crept in as he entered the boundaries of Lillian's farm. He walked slowly, cautiously, as though she would spring out at him at any second. The animals were inside now, and the crops watered for the day, so it meant she could only be inside her house.

Clearing his throat, Cam rapped on the heavy wooden door a few times. His legs felt as if they had turned to jelly as he heard soft footsteps on the other side. The door opened a crack and Lillian peered out suspiciously. When she saw who the visitor was she opened the door wider, her jaw set.

"Yes?" she asked coolly.

Oh shit. What was he going to say? Just, 'Hi Lillian I know you're sad but here's some flowers so chin up!' It sounded so stupid inside his head he almost laughed out loud – but didn't as he noticed that she raised her eyebrows contemptuously.

"Um… I brought these, for you…" With an awkward flourish he presented the bouquet of flowers. Lillian's eyebrows practically disappeared into her hairline.

"What are these for?" she asked, taking the bouquet, sniffing at the petals.

"Um…" A hot flush crept up on his neck. "As a peace offering," he said finally, and watched as her face fell.

"Peace offering?" she repeated and, to his alarm, she sounded saddened.

"You know, because we got off on the wrong foot," he said quickly. "That's all."

"Oh." She paused. "I don't have anything for you," she said, clearly embarrassed.

"It's alright." He looked down at the ground for something to do rather than look at her and maintain awkward eye contact.

"I didn't know you could be this… nice," she said quietly. She, too, was avoiding his gaze, but he looked straight at her when she said this.

"Well, you hardly know me," he told her, trying to keep the edge out of his voice. He did not succeed.

Lillian stared at him, hard. "You didn't give off the best impression. How was I to know any different?"

"Maybe you could have given me a chance to start off with."

"Maybe you should have given me one!" she said hotly. "For the love of the Harvest Goddess I really don't know where I stand with you. Sometimes you do nice things like this, then ruin it by being all grumpy again!"

"Well, perhaps if _you_ were more friendly to people, they would want to get to know you more!" Cam's voice had risen loudly now as he and Lillian came nose to nose.

"I _am_ friendly!" she shouted. "It's _you_ who can't see that, because you're too busy brooding over your precious flowers and giving everyone dirty looks… What's your problem?"

"You are my problem!" he suddenly blurted out. He regretted it straight away yet his anger was too great for him to care. Lillian's angry flush faded away, and her face turned from fury to confusion.

"What did you just say?" She asked him quietly, but with the air of someone who had reached breaking point and would snap at any second.

"You are my problem," he repeated slowly and clearly. He glared down at her and the bouquet of flowers that drooped in her hand. Words began tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. "You, with your nice smelling hair and your stupid eyes and – and your clean clothes and pretty fucking little headband –"

He broke off suddenly, a mixture of bitter feelings and frustration mingling with the forbidden sensation of affection he had tried to suppress for so long, stamping it down whenever he set eyes on a girl. He closed his eyes and brought his hand up to his brow where he massaged his temples, not wanting to see her face or her expression. He'd said what he had been feeling for the past season, in a roundabout fashion, the muddle of contrasting feelings marring his words and their meaning. All except –

"You are my problem," he said for a third time, quieter, gentler, and resigned to the sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever he saw her. "I can't get you off my mind. You're there, right before I go to sleep, while I work, and I hate it. I hate it because I don't want to feel this way about anyone, and yet you're an exception to the rules. That's what I hate."

"You hate me?" she asked quietly.

"No," he said quickly.

"But we hated each other at first," she said before he could correct himself. Her face was impassive now, betraying no emotion.

"Maybe not hate…"

"Disliked, then," she said curtly, her usual manner back in place.

"I wanted to dislike you more because I didn't want to let myself feel anything else, any tender feeling, or affection."

"Why?" she asked, still very perplexed.

He sighed and took his hat off, running a hand through his hair. "It's… complicated. It's just how I am, coming from past experiences. Ask anyone, and they'll tell you I'm a moody bastard. I don't think they like me much apart from Ash and Howard. Everyone just gets used to me."

He said it blatantly, a statement. This sad fact seem to cause Lillian to come to terms with his behaviour slightly. "You irritate me a lot, but I don't hate you," she said, fiddling with a flower petal. The oddness of his words seemed to wash over her now. She met his gaze and it felt like a flock of butterflies had been released in her stomach when their eyes locked. She wanted to press her lips to his, to kiss away his worries, his fears, and to feel him kiss her back with the same fervour and to feel the hope that he could wash away her fears, too. She wanted to take him by the hand and lead him inside, where they would share the can of black tea she had not yet opened, and talk about their lives. She wanted to do many things in this precious moment, feeling as if a bond had been woven between them. But, suddenly, a bird swooped overhead and cawed loudly, causing the spell to be broken. They jumped, startled, and made their eyes linger elsewhere; the ground, the doorframe, the trees on the horizon.

"I would invite you in…" began Lillian but Cam cut across her.

"No, it's okay, I need to get going back anyway." He paused and cleared his throat. It was now or never. "Maybe we could go for a walk together sometime, or something. You know, to talk a bit more now we've stopped arguing…" He drifted off and placed his hat back on, adjusting it more than was necessary.

"I'd like that," Lillian replied softly. She raised the bouquet. "Thanks for the flowers, they're really nice."

Cam smiled awkwardly, for the first time in her presence. It was quite a transition, and made him look even more handsome. "You're welcome. I'll see you around."

With a wave and backwards glance, he set off, hands deep in his pockets and his heart lighter than what it had been for a long, long time.


	5. Through The Storm

**Chapter Five**

Summer brought sweltering hot weather and violent typhoons within the first week. Lillian had arranged for Eileen to construct a pasture expansion but unfortunately had been delayed due to the weather. Grumbling, Lillian braved the storm and ran to the barn that morning, her skirts whipping around her ankles and hair obscuring her vision. The few cows and sheep she now held were trembling with fright as the barn rattled. Lillian had half a mind to curl up in the warm hay rather than go back outside again. She detested this sudden vicious weather. Not only because of the animals but more so because she hadn't seen Cam in a while.

She had been too busy planting summer crops and catering to requests that she had almost forgotten all about Cam's invitation to go on a date. When he finally did catch up with her, she had been laden with request papers and rushing about to get them completed. In truth, she brushed him off, then had hurried away with a quick "We should do this another time". Guilt rose up inside her when she caught his crestfallen expression – although he should have seen that she was extremely busy. Unfortunately, he had not posted a request on the board for some time, so she was unable to gain an innocent reason to speak to him.

Now, watching the unseasonal rain fall outside, she wanted nothing more than to see him. She couldn't do requests today, and no shops were open, so she practically had a free day. On the other hand, if she stayed home in the warmth, all she would be doing would be doodling in her sketch pad, or reading, or practicing her cooking. None of those options seemed particularly exciting.

Taking a deep breath, she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, and ran out into the storm. Rain pelted her face like bullets whilst the wind howled, the gale almost knocking her off course as she ran towards the town centre. Within minutes she was soaked and almost decided to turn back until she realised she was a lot closer to Howard's café than her farm. If she went back now, it will have been all for nought.

She burst in the café, panting, earning shocked looks from both Laney and Howard. Laney rushed over, abandoning her conversation with her father.

"Lillian!" she exclaimed with surprise. "What are you doing out in this awful weather? You'll catch cold!"

Lillian panted, unable to speak. Howard had pulled a small hand towel from under the counter and handed it to her, then proceeding to pour a large mug of tea.

"Came… to see…" Lillian tried to say. It felt as if a white hot poker had been rammed into her lungs. Now, under the concerned looks of the people before her, she was beginning to wish she hadn't bothered. "…Cam," she finished finally.

"He's not here, honey," said Howard gently.

"W-what?"

"It's Monday. He isn't around on Mondays."

Lillian was beginning to feel more foolish by the second. She should've known… somehow. Tears of embarrassment pricked her eyes but she refused to let them fall. She physically drooped and accepted the mug of milky tea Howard handed to her without question.

"You came out in this just to see him?"

Lillian nodded, staring at the floor. "We hadn't spoken in a while and I wasn't doing much today… and I want us to be on good terms, you know…"

"It'll be alright." Laney patted Lillian's shoulder sympathetically. "Why don't you come upstairs and change out of those clothes? I'll give you something to wear whilst they dry."

"No, thank you, I'm fine. I'm already drenched so I'll just go back to the farm…" Lillian drained her mug.

"You are not walking in this," said Howard firmly. For once, he was stern. "At least wait until the storm stops."

Lillian merely shrugged and nodded. She felt sapped of energy all of a sudden. She followed Laney up the stairs, not realising where her feet fell, nor caring that her clothes dripped water on the floor.

"Where does Cam go on Mondays, anyway?" she asked now.

Laney rifled through her closet, her back turned. "He doesn't say. We don't ask him – he likes his privacy. He's usually gone all day which makes us think he travels far."

Lillian said nothing. Cam was rather private; that much was true. Laney pulled out a dress much like the one she was wearing but with a blue gingham pattern, along with a navy cardigan, and a pair of socks.

"Here; put these on while I dry yours."

"Thank you for doing this for me," Lillian said quietly, overwhelmed by this display of kindness.

"It's fine, silly." Laney waved an airy hand and smiled. "With all the good you've done for this town so far, it's about time you got something back."

Lillian mumbled something incoherently, very much flattered and embarrassed. She hadn't thought twice about doing requests for people. She never expected anything back.

"You'll stay for dinner, won't you? My dad will probably make you something anyway – and this typhoon is getting worse."

"Yeah, of course," murmured Lillian. "I'll get changed, now, then…"

"Oh! Of course." Laney bounded back downstairs, leaving Lillian to peel off her sopping wet clothes.

She felt exceedingly guilty about piling the wet rags on the floor, but it wasn't doing any harm except perhaps leaving a puddle behind. The dress fit fairly well; it was definitely a garment for a warm summer's day, as it was made of light fabric cut just above the knee, and had thin straps. Unfortunately, aside from the good fit everywhere else, she was slightly bigger busted than Laney, so the bodice of the dress squashed her breasts. It gave her a decent amount of cleavage, but Lillian hid this display by putting on the cardigan and buttoning it to the top. Feeling a lot more comfortable, she trudged down the stairs, her own clothes held out at arm's length. Her hair had begun to dry somewhat, though hung down in messy clumps.

"Ah, you're ready!"

Laney took Lillian's clothes from her just as she extracted a hair band from the pocket of her dress.

"Dad's made you another mug of tea," Laney said, and set about hanging the clothes on an airing rack.

"Thanks," said Lillian gratefully, holding the warm mug between her hands.

"I hope your animals are okay," said Howard, his brow creasing with concern.

"They'll be fine," Lillian replied, thought she worried, too. "I gave them some good wholesome fodder when I left; it'll last them all day."

"Hmm." Howard proceeded to look troubled for a moment before coming out of his reverie. "It is lovely to see you, though Lillian. I was just saying to Laney that it's a shame we don't spend much time with you."

"Oh, um, you too," she replied, her cheeks burning. She sipped her tea, more so for something to do rather than quench her thirst. It was delicious and very sweet. "What kind of tea is this?"

"Russian. It's got jam in it and is perfect for days like this. Cookie?"

He had pulled out tray of biscuits from the oven. Steam wafted over to Lillian's direction, the sweet smell tantalising her nose.

"Laney made them – I have to say, she's got her old dad's talent!"

Lillian accepted one graciously, waiting for it to cool slightly before breaking it in half. The chocolate chips had melted in the middle of cookie, and the whole ensemble was deliciously gooey and moist as Lillian dug in, the crumbs practically melting on her tongue. She had never tasted anything so good. Howard beamed at her, then slid another one onto her saucer as Laney entered the room again.

"These are the best cookies I've ever tasted," Lillian told her sincerely, wiping up the stray crumbs.

"Why, thank you," she gushed. "I love baking, I started learning when I was a child."

She joined Lillian at the table, smiling. "I'm glad we can sit and talk like girls do."

"Aren't you good friends with Georgia?" Lillian asked, perplexed. Surely Laney already had someone to do such things with?

"Well… yes, I am, but it's nice to have a fresh face around. I'm allowed more than one good friend, silly!" Laney rapped Lillian's knuckles affectionately.

Good friends? Lillian thought to herself. They hardly knew each other and, as sweet and kind Laney was, Lillian had never imagined becoming friends with her. Not because she didn't want to – as long as no intrusive questions were asked – but more because Laney seemed like the popular girl with a ton of friends, slightly intimidating to those who didn't know her. Lillian had to admit, however, that it was pleasant to speak to someone on a more effeminate level, rather than Ash, who spoke constantly about work and the like, and Cam, who barely said anything at all.

The afternoon passed in a blur of bad weather, tea, and laughter. Howard served a stew with dumplings for dinner, accompanied by freshly baked bread. Lillian savoured the rich gravy, her eyes closed, feeling as if she were truly home at last. She envied Laney for having such divine dishes served daily.

Lillian mopped up the last of the gravy in her bowl with a piece of bread before popping it into her mouth. Howard chuckled appreciatively.

"I'm so happy you like my cooking," he said, beaming. "Laney complains about it sometimes, saying she'll put on too much weight."

"I do not," said his daughter crossly, though stuck her tongue out at him.

Lillian laughed. Darkness was beginning to fall and the wind howled on. Windows rattled in their panes whilst wind whistled through the gap underneath the door. It was rather pleasant, being cosy in Howard's café, sheltered from the typhoon.

"Thank you both so much for everything you've done for me today," Lillian said sincerely for the umpteenth time.

Howard waved a hand. "Think nothing of it; it's been such a pleasure to have you here."

He began washing up, whistling cheerfully as he did so. Laney looked on fondly before suddenly clapping her hands together.

"Ooh, Lillian!" she cried. "Please say you'll stay for the night and we'll have a slumber party like we're back in high school!"

As tempting as the offer was, Lillian shook her head. "I could do, though I need to be up early and get back to the farm for the animals tomorrow."

"Ah, of course," said Laney, realisation dawning on her. "We can still do this again some other time, as well."

Lillian smiled. "I'd like that."

Truly, it would be a wonderful change to her usual monotonous routine to sit in the café and gossip over a coffee with Laney.

Laney gazed at her fondly and gave her hand an affectionate squeeze. "You're such a sweetie, Lilly."

_Lilly_.

The nickname stirred something in the back of her mind. She couldn't remember the last time someone had called her that. Not since –

She stood up suddenly, and had a strong sense of déjà vu. This was how she had left Ash's store when she recalled that awful moment of her past.

"Is everything okay?" Laney asked, also standing, looking concerned.

"F-fine," Lillian stammered. She stared without looking, feeling as though the entirety of her body and become numb. "I'm tired, I should get back now."

She made to leave the café but Howard's strong hand gently grasped her upper arm. "Not in this, Lillian, we worry about you, you know."

She hadn't responded to his touch and merely gazed at the darkness outside and the droplets that pelted the window.

"If you're tired, take a nap in Cam's bed," Laney suggested. She took Lillian's hand and tugged gently when she didn't moved or say anything. Laney exchanged a worried look with her father. "Come on, let's go…"

Finally, Lillian moved her feet, slowly but surely.

"Are you sure?" she asked as the door to Cam's room opened. She wanted her to say no. She wanted to run, to hide, from the thoughts swirling around her brain.

"Of course." Laney sounded relieved that the other girl had spoken. "Here you are."

"What if he comes back?" Lillian heard herself wonder out loud. She felt surprised when she realised she wasn't referring to Cam.

"He will be alright," Laney assured her, "he'll sleep somewhere else."

She pulled back the quilt covers and helped to lay Lillian down.

"If you need anything, you know where we are." Laney smiled and left the room. Lillian found herself instantly wishing she hadn't had done, because now here she lay, in the dark save for a lavender-smelling candle flickering forlornly on the bedside cabinet, with no one and nothing as company except for her own mind. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block the thoughts out, bringing her legs up to her chest in a foetal position, something she had learned to do to protect herself. She tried to distract herself by listening to the unrelenting storm outside, then moving on to fantasising about the future she could build on her farm, the animals she could have and so on. But she lay awake for some time, sensitive to every creak and footstep, each time jolting from the brink of sleep, her heart pounding. No one entered the room to check on her; they probably assumed she would be fast asleep by now. Sweating, Lillian pulled off the cardigan she was wearing and threw it irritably on the floor, trying to get comfortable within the ruffles of the dress.

Only when the wind began to slow and the rain ceased did she drop off into a restless sleep.

* * *

Something was wrong.

Lillian had awoken as suddenly as if someone had yelled in her ear. Yet the room was quiet and the night was still. The candle on the bedside table continued to burn down its wick. She had forgotten to blow it out the night before, yet the light had been comforting.

So why had she woke up?

Then she became aware of a presence in the room. She lay paralysed by fear. They made no noise, not even to breathe, yet she could sense them. Watching her. Waiting for their chance…

Suddenly, she sprang up, sitting bolt upright and feeling much braver than she felt. Whoever it was swore under their breath and, by the sounds of it, had banged their shin on a piece of furniture. Even by the dim candlelight, she could only see a silhouette of this person. They were relatively tall and slim.

"Who's there?" she hissed in the darkness. Clumsily, she searched through the bedside table to find a weapon of sorts, her hand skimming over things: a magazine, a ball of twine, though nothing sharp or heavy.

"It's Cam," whispered the person, "and I'd appreciate it if you didn't rifle through my things."

Lillian withdrew her hand as if burned. "Sorry. I didn't know it was you."

"I gathered."

Cam pulled himself up to his full height and advanced towards her. Even though she knew who the supposed intruder was now, she could help but pull the duvet up to her chin protectively.

"What are you doing here?"

"I..." Suddenly, she felt embarrassed, as if caught doing something indecent. Then again, she was in his bed after all. This was where he slept. Probably naked on these warm summer nights…

She blushed furiously when she thought about this. She cleared her throat. "I came to see you earlier, but you weren't in, so Howard offered I stay here until the typhoon stopped." She swallowed. "And, uh, I was tired, so Laney brought me in here so I could take a nap…"

"A longer nap than you anticipated, evidently." He sounded amused rather than annoyed, and she relaxed, letting the duvet drop from her grasp.

"I'll get going, now you're here," she said, swinging her legs out of bed.

"Are you insane?" Cam hissed. Now he sounded annoyed. "You're not wandering around at this time."

"Hark at you," she retorted, "coming in at all hours of the night."

"It's barely past midnight," he told her. He turned to a cabinet against the wall and switched on the lamp. Warm light filled the room and Lillian blinked as she shielded her eyes.

Cam turned back to face her and a gasp stuck in his throat. Her body had been thrown into more relief, the glow of the lamp accentuating her curves, the shadows falling in the right place. The tightness of the dress pushed her breasts up into round mounds of flesh peeking above the low neckline. Judging from how the dress fit, he assumed it was borrowed. His fingers twitched; he ached to run his hands over the curvature of her body. Her round shoulders hunched slightly as she sat on the edge of the bed, her spine slightly curved in her relaxed position. She was looking at the floor, not him, seemingly interested in the pattern of the carpeting. Her feet were bare too, he noticed, and delicate, much like the rest of her. At that moment, she looked vulnerable.

"You can stay, if you like," he said gruffly. He'd never been a gracious host; his room was his own space. "I'll set up some blankets on my floor and you have my bed."

"I can't do that," she said, aghast. "It's your bed!"

"Yet you've already been sleeping in it. Besides, I'm a perfect gentleman." He flashed a smile at her and began rifling through his closet for spare blankets.

"Um, Cam?"

"Hmm?"

"Do… do you have a t-shirt or anything I could sleep in?" she asked timidly. "I don't want to ruin Laney's dress."

He glanced over his shoulder at her. For some reason, the thought of her wearing his clothes was oddly arousing. "Sure." He delved into a drawer and threw her a black t-shirt, then resumed his search for sleeping paraphernalia.

"Thanks," she muttered, slipping out the room. Back in the main part of the dark café, Lillian hastily whipped off the dress, standing in nothing but her smallclothes. Quick as a flash and to avoid being seen, she yanked the t-shirt over her head, before unclasping her bra and pulling out through one of the sleeves. She was pleased to discover that the shirt was a lot long than she anticipated, allowing her more decency. Her buttocks were safely covered, at least. Picking up the fallen garments, she pushed the door open to Cam's room again, not thinking to knock. Instantly, she wish she had done, for Cam was in the midst of changing, too, his shirt over his head, facing away from her. She stared, wide-eyed, at the muscles that rippled beneath his back, the broad shoulders, down to his waist…

He turned round and caught her looking; instantly she swung round and faced the wooden panels of the door.

"S-sorry, I didn't realise you were getting dressed," she stammered, blushing furiously. She was glad that she couldn't see his face.

"Oh, um, it's fine," he replied meekly. A moment's pause. "You can turn around now."

She obeyed and felt relieved when she that saw he was dressed in lounge shorts and tight fitting t-shirt. She hung Laney's clothes on a hook attached to the back of the door and made her way shakily to the bed. Seeing him almost naked had very much made her weak at the knees.

Cam had made himself up a makeshift bed of blankets and pillows on the floor next to his bed, almost like a nest, and he settled himself down. Lillian blew out the candle on the bedside table – the heady smell of lavender was beginning to get to her. Idly, she found herself wondering if Cam kept candles such as this in his room to keep the permanent smell of flowers, without having to water them.

"Comfy?" he asked from the floor, reaching up to turn off the lamp.

"Yes, thanks." Lillian lay there stiffly in the dark for a minute. "Are you?"

He grunted. "I guess. I've slept in worse conditions."

She thought it better if she didn't pry. After all, he didn't nose into her life any more than was necessary. "Do you want to swap?"

"No," he said sharply. "Just go to sleep."

Silence fell upon them until Cam broke it again, his voice hushed. "Did you really walk through a typhoon to visit me?"

"Well, more like ran," Lillian corrected him. "But yes, I did."

"Can I ask why?"

"I suppose you could… I hadn't seen you in a while, and I'm quite enjoying us being on good terms, you know? Plus, I basically had a free day with nothing to do," she added, destroying the romanticised image of a girl desperately battling her way through awful weather to see a boy, hoping he would sweep her off her feet. She snorted. The day someone swept her off her feet would be the day that Bessie learned to fly.

"What's funny?" Cam asked, sounding disgruntled.

"Nothing," she said quickly, rolling on her side to get comfortable. She breathed deeply and noticed that Cam's shirt carried a lingering scent of him. Masculine cologne, with an underlying aroma of flowers and dirt. It was a comforting smell.

Cam grunted down on the floor, rearranging the assortment of pillows.

"Everything alright?" Lillian asked tentatively.

"Yeah," he mumbled, punching a pillow into shape. "Pillows keep shifting about, that's all."

Lillian felt a pang of guilt; she felt dreadful that she had borrowed this boy's clothes and his bed, practically claiming territory over his own bedroom. Seized by a sudden desire, she rolled back over to her other side, so that she was facing him through the gloom.

"We could share the bed, if you wanted to," she suggested gently. "It's big enough for two, and I don't take up much space."

A pause.

"Fine," Cam conceded, grumbling as he heaved himself up from the floor. Her heart began to pound erratically as she shifted over to one side, allowing Cam to slide in next to her. She hadn't ever shared a bed with a boy – thanks to her very strict upbringing, her contact with the opposite sex had merely consisted of a few stolen kisses behind the tavern in town. It hadn't been fun having a strange guy grope her clumsily while she stood there, arms hanging by her sides, wondering what to do.

Lillian turned over, so they were back to back, her heart continuing to beat out a rhythm at a sickeningly fast pace, well aware that if Cam moved to the right the slightest bit, then they would be touching. Cam pulled the duvet more over to his side, unknowingly leaving Lillian with the smallest amount, yet her politeness prevented her from speaking out. After some time, she began to shiver, waiting for Cam to fall asleep so she could swipe more of the duvet.

"Are you cold?" Cam asked, making her jump.

"I'm fine," she assured him.

"No, you're not. Here." He turned around, moving towards her, until his stomach was against her back, and pulled the duvet equally over them both. Her heart was going so fast now that she wondered if it would now become detrimental to her health. His scent of flowers and cologne was more powerful now, though was mixed in with the smell of outside, and mown grass. He was barely touching her, yet she yearned for his touch, to hold his hand. Anything. But she didn't want to force him to do anything he didn't want to. Although, she began to think back to the words he had said to her that afternoon on her farm, the frustration as he tried to tell her how he felt. Surely it was worth a try…

Carefully, Lillian inched backwards, so that she could feel the definitive warmth of his body, their contact so close that she could feel his heart beat beneath his ribs. It was going at a steady rhythm, unlike hers still. Feeling sick with anticipation, she reached behind her, feeling around for his hand, the grasping his forearm and laying it around her waist. For a moment, she felt disappointed, as if he had drifted off to sleep or simply did not want to touch her – but then his hold tightened around her body and his face came into contact with her shoulder. She felt giddy with excitement. Wordlessly, she laced her fingers through his, and he gripped hers back, clenching them in his palm.

Feeling calm and strangely at peace with the world, she felt Cam's chest rise and fall slowly as he fell asleep, with her close behind.


	6. Pudding

_A/N - a little bit of mature content in this chapter but i tried to keep it at a T rating; any problems let me know! thank you to __Cotton Candy Mareep__ for the wonderful feedback on my other chapters. please read and enjoy - reviews are love! _

**Chapter Six**

Cam knew what happened before he even opened his eyes. That tight feeling in his lower abdomen and the protruding member of his intrusive morning wood. Lillian was still fast asleep, practically squashed up against the wall after having moved around during the night. He could slip out now, without her noticing, but that would not get rid of his erection. Or, he could remain in bed, wait for it to die down, then get on with the day…

No, that would take too long, and he didn't want to risk Lillian noticing; even though he twitched at the thought of her delicate hands and tongue performing things he had only ever dreamed about…

He felt ashamed of himself as soon as the thought entered his mind. Did he see Lillian in that way? Without a doubt, yes; he recalled how she had reached out to him during the night, pulling him closer, and how his stomach had swooped at their contact. Innocent, yet exciting. He hadn't felt this way about someone, ever. It was pleasant but scary at the same time. He watched her sleep for a moment. Maybe he should kiss her first, before he went off on these wild sexual fantasies about her. He then began to worry whether she would kiss him back. Girls could be very confusing. Perhaps he should straight up ask her.

He heard movement on the floors above him. Better yet, he could ask Laney for advice – she was a girl, she would know what to do.

Cam glanced at the clock on his bedside table, telling him it was almost six o'clock. Stretching, he began to climb out of bed, taking care not to awaken Lillian. However, his efforts were all for nought, because as soon as the big hand hit the number twelve on the clock, Lillian began to stir. Obviously, her body had learnt to get up early every morning without fail. As she stretched and yawned, Cam hastily tucked his unrelenting erection into the waistband of his shorts, pulling on a pair of lounge trousers in the hopes this would be enough to disguise his arousal.

"Good morning," Lillian mumbled, her voice thick with sleep.

"How did you sleep?" Cam asked her conversationally. As she sat up, the duvet fell away from her and the t-shirt rode up her legs, revealing a large amount of creamy white thigh. This did not help matters.

"Very well, thank you." Completely unaware of the effect she was having on him, she looked down at herself and hurriedly pulled down the hem of the t-shirt. "Um, I don't suppose you could fetch my clothes from the kitchen? I think they will be dry now, and I'm not really decently dressed…"

Automatically, he looked down at her legs, to where she gestured. Damn it. "Yeah, sure," he said, much calmer than he felt. He dashed into the kitchen area, yanking Lillian's clothes off the airing rack, and hurried back to his room before anyone set foot downstairs.

"Thanks," said Lillian gratefully when Cam handed her clothes to her. She dithered awkwardly. "I, ah, need to get changed now…"

A blush crept up on his cheeks. "Sorry. I'll be… out here…" His voice trailed off as he left his room, leaving Lillian to undress. This brought a more prominent red blush to his face.

One of these days, he will know how to act normally around the girl.

* * *

Cam waited until Lillian had left the café – though not before Howard offered her a plethora of breakfast food, which she politely declined, and Laney had hugged her at least twice – until he dressed back into his normal clothes for the day and pulled Laney to one side.

"What's up?" she asked him, her brow crinkling with concern.

"I need some advice," he murmured awkwardly. He made sure Howard was out of earshot. The man was such a gossip that Cam would not have been surprised if all of Bluebell knew his business by the next morning. "It's… about a girl."

"Lillian?" Laney guessed straight away, her eyebrows raised. She sat down at a table and gestured Cam to sit opposite. "What about her?"

He didn't reply straight away. Was it just him or was it too warm in the café?

"You like her, don't you?" pressed Laney. "Come on, we've been friends for years, you can talk to me about anything."

Cam loosened the collar of his shirt. "I just want a girl's opinion on the matter, that's all."

Laney waited patiently for him to carry on, her fingers laced together on the table in front of her.

"I do really like her – though I didn't at first – and – and I just want to know how to… impress her," he finished lamely. He felt beads of perspiration form on his forehead and took off his hat, setting it down in front of him.

"In what way?"

"Uh…" He thought for a moment and raked a hand through his hair. "Gifts. Like, I don't know how to act when I'm with her, or know what to say or do." He sighed exasperatedly. "I just – I just want to kiss her. Do I need to ask her?"

"No," said Laney at once. "You need to know when the right moment is for you to kiss. Asking her will completely ruin the moment, and kissing her before she is ready to will end badly."

"So, I need to know when the right moment is," he reiterated. "How?"

"By her body language, chemistry between you, the situation," said Laney, counting them on her fingers.

"Oh, so not much then?" he said sarcastically.

She glared at him. "You wanted to know, and there you have it. Honestly, once you get past the first kiss, the rest gets easier. Now," she said briskly, "in terms of gifts, you need to know her personality. Drop subtle questions about what she likes and doesn't like by asking her opinion on things. That way, it won't be obvious that you're about to present her with some lavish gift. Girls like to be surprised. Oh, and don't be too full-on," she added, then smiled.

It was a lot to take in. "I wish I had taken notes now," grumbled Cam, standing up. He glanced back at Laney. "Thanks, though."

She nodded courteously and hurried off to help her father with the dishes for the day. Cam jammed his hat back onto his head and wandered to the town square. He spotted Ash from where he stood. He hadn't seen his best friend in a couple of days and needed to straighten out the thoughts whirring about in his mind, or at least stop thinking about Lillian for more than five minutes.

"Hey, Cam," Ash called cheerfully. "How's things?"

"Good, thanks." Cam leant against the pickets of the fence, watching the cows and sheep scamper around the pen. He was struck by a sudden thought. "Hey, I don't suppose I could buy some milk off you today?"

"Sure thing." Ash brushed his hands on his overalls and made his way to pails of milk that stood in a box in the shade. "What is it for?" he called back.

"A present."

"For a lady?" Ash returned and waggled his eyebrows. "Who is she, eh?"

"L-Lillian." Cam stumbled on her name for a second. "I want to make her a dessert."

Ash raised an eyebrow. "You got a thing for her, huh?"

"I suppose you could call it that." Cam narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Why do you ask?"

"You and nearly every other guy. I saw Kana and Mikhail give her a bunch of flowers the other day."

"Really?" asked Cam, his heart hammering. "What for? They didn't buy them from me."

Ash laughed. "Probably because you were closed, like you are nearly all the time. And for the flower festival, of course."

The flower festival. How could he have forgotten? He practically lived and breathed flowers. Yet something else he had to make up to her.

He turned on his heel and started back to the café.

"Where are you going?" Ash shouted after him.

"I have some errands to run," Cam called back.

And a pretty girl to see, he thought to himself with a smile.

* * *

Admittedly, the pudding could have been better. It flopped forlornly to one side and jiggled on the dish as Cam walked with it to Lillian's farm. Howard had offered to help but Cam decline, firmly deciding that by doing this on his own, it would be that bit more personal. He had also assembled a bouquet of gerberas and wrapped them in patterned oilpaper. Overall, he was pleased with this affect. He just sincerely hoped she liked pudding.

Lillian was watering her tomato vines when Cam entered the boundaries of her farm. She hadn't seen him; she bent over the vine and examined the growing tomatoes in her hand, before inspecting the onion bulbs. Her work outfit was smeared with soil and her hair tied up into a knot on the crown of her head. When she stood up straight and saw Cam approaching, she hastily wiped the sweat from her forehead and straightened her pinafore, trying to look slightly decent.

"Hey," he called, trudging up the dirt path. "I have something for you."

"So I see," she called back, a small smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "What's the occasion?"

"I missed the flower festival. Here." He handed her the bouquet, hand trembling slightly, though relaxed as she looked gratified. She sniffed the petals appreciatively. He opened his mouth to mention the other flowers she received but decided against it, knowing full well she would retort that it was none of his business. And rightly so.

"And that?" she asked with a nod to the blancmange.

"I made it myself; just a random present for no reason." He blushed but hoped she would think it was the heat of the sun rather than shyness that brought colour to his cheeks.

"Ooh." She peered at it, intrigued. "Bring it inside – I was just about to take a break from work."

She made her way back to the house, Cam in pursuit, and he couldn't help but notice that she seemed remotely unabashed about their night together, and the close proximity to how they slept. Then again, he hadn't expected her to mention anything, like it was a big deal, but couldn't help but feel mildly disappointed. In a way, he wanted to know how it was for her: comforting, pleasant, awkward, or otherwise.

"Put it on the table," Lillian called from the sink as she washed her hands.

In doing so, Cam also sat down, realising that he was in her house for the first time. It was very cosy: a large bed stood next to the wall, there was a bookcase crammed with all sorts of interesting books and the house seemed to carry a permanent aroma of cooking and coconut shampoo. Lillian's slippers sat next to the bed; pink and fluffy with pom-poms at the front. It was definitely a girl's home.

Lillian returned with two spoons and sat next to him. "Try it with me?"

Truth be told, he was begrudged to try his own cooking, but took the spoon anyway, scooping off a section of the pudding and placing it in his mouth. Lillian had already eaten her spoonful and he watched her expectantly.

"How is it?" he asked before eating his own bit.

"Spectacularly disgusting," she said flatly, then flashed him a grin and laughed at his offended expression. "Don't take it personally; I don't particularly like pudding that much."

He relaxed and ate the bit of pudding he was holding. Surprisingly, it wasn't as bad as he had expected it to be. "So why did you eat it?"

She shrugged and tapped the spoon on the wooden table top. "I dunno… you made it especially for me, so I wanted to try it."

Taken aback, he stared at her. If someone placed a chocolate party cake in front of him, no matter how much he liked the other person, he would not so much as try a crumb. He wondered if this was her politeness, or because she liked him. She hadn't said anything of the sort of course, but she was very difficult for him to read.

"That was… nice of you," he said at last. He set his spoon down next to the nearly-empty dish.

She smiled at him but it vanished quickly. Getting up, she made her way over to the radio, and twiddled the knob until she found the weather channel. A crackly voice filled the room.

"_… sunny all day today… and tonight there will be a thunderstorm, carrying over to a typhoon tomorrow…_"

Lillian tutted and turned the radio off. "Typical. As if there hasn't been enough bad weather." She seemed to be talking to herself more than Cam.

"I always liked thunderstorms," he said conversationally, stretching.

"I don't," she replied flatly. "All the loud claps of thunder…" she broke off and gave a shiver.

He opened his mouth to speak just as she said, "It's a good job I've got Big Ben here to protect me."

Of course – she had been referring to the great St Bernard cross that she had bought from Grady to help her herd the animals. Slightly crestfallen, he toyed with the remnants of pudding, wishing he had to courage to ask her out again. More so, he wished he could stay here with her, and be her protector, holding her delicate body against his as the storm raged outside.

She picked up the dish and took it over to the sink, where Cam followed her. "Please, let me wash that."

Surprised, she stepped back, and allowed him to do so. When he finished drying his hands he turned to where she was stood. A pale bit of something was stuck to her cheek.

"Um…" He reached out and was inwardly glad when she didn't flinch away. "You have some pudding on your face…" Using his thumb he wiped it away, feeling the soft texture of the peachy skin against the calloused pad of his thumb. Even though the remnant had been wiped off, their eyes met, and entranced, kept contact with her face. She looked up at him and he realised how much taller he was than her. Petite, with those round blue eyes and hair the hung in loose waves around her shoulders, her beauty seemed to hit him at once. How could he have ever thought her irritating? More to the point: how could he have ever disliked her as greatly as he had done?

"You have really pretty eyes," she whispered, her own sparkling as he looked deep into their depths.

"Thank –"

But suddenly her lips were on his, gentle, the luscious pink that reminded him of crushed raspberries, and tasted like pudding and mint in one, kissing him with a tenderness he had not experienced in his near-twenty years of living. Fireworks exploded somewhere in his brain, his stomach swooping sickeningly, his arms dangling by his sides until he finally regained use of them, his fingers tangling in her hair. Getting over his initial surprise he kissed her back firmly, one arm snaked around her waist the way he had imagined it countless times before he went to sleep at night. How long they were stood there, swaying on the spot and their lips finally meeting, he did not know, and he did not care. For now, all that mattered was that he had this sweet, troubled girl in his arms. He would have felt as if this were a dream, a cruel image designed to torment him, until he heard doleful mooing from the cows outside, and cluck of chickens, bringing him back to the real world. He slipped his tongue into her mouth, massaging her tongue with his, and she moaned against him, the sound reverberating off his lips. It was the closest to heaven he had ever been.

Eventually, Lillian pulled away from him to draw breath, her mouth moist from their passionate kiss. She smiled at him and it stayed in place.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time," he murmured in her ear. He pulled her close so that her head rested against his chest.

"Hmm, me too," she agreed.

Silence fell upon them; yet not the usual awkward, bitter silence it once had been. Now, they could stand in the quiet atmosphere of her house, enjoying the presence of their bodies against each other. Any trace of their previous animosity had evaporated and had been replaced by the chemistry between them that seemed to almost crackle with electricity.

For a second time, she pulled away from him. "I've been growing some roses with the seeds I bought from you. Do you want to see them?"

He smiled down at her. "I'd love to."

Taking his hand, she led him outside to the sweltering heat, and down to the area below the pasture. There, in a row, were growing shrubs of red roses. Buds had appeared, leaning greedily in the direction of the sun's rays. Only on one of the plants had a green bud exploded open to reveal the rich red petals inside that had begun to peek out.

"They're not as nice as the ones you grow," Lillian said quickly, "I mostly grow vegetables and the like. A bit of variety, you know?"

"They're beautiful," he told her. She flushed. "Would you like to take a walk with me?"

The question slipped out easily and this time he didn't stutter or blush. Nodding, and still holding hands, Cam led her away from her farm and to the stream. Every now and then they caught each other's eye and smiled shyly. She was beginning to feel at ease with him, more than she had done with anyone else, though tried to remain stoic and sensible. After some time, Cam laced his fingers through hers, allowing them to feel that little bit closer. Ducks were waddling in the shallows of the stream when they got there; Cam led Lillian down the embankment and they sat cross-legged on the short grass, their fingers dancing together as if participating in a mini wrestling match. The clouds overhead were beginning to look overcast.

Cam saw her eye the sky wearily. "What is it you don't like about thunderstorms?"

She hesitated. Could she explain why, without saying too much? Why the claps of loud thunder frightened her, in conjunction with the memory they brought, without telling him exactly why? Even though she had escaped her old life, she had been a fool to think that nothing in Bluebell would remind her of it. Or would it be better to simply tell the truth?

"Tell me why you came to Bluebell and I'll tell you why I don't like thunderstorms," she said simply. A truth for a truth, she decided.

He eyed her suspiciously. "Okay, then…" He cleared his throat. "I was on my own a lot; my parents had separated, and had this ongoing battle over who would get custody of me as a child, so, to make things easier, I moved in with my grandmother in the country. She lived away from the city, and was old and frail, so I looked after her. Long story short, she passed away, I set about selling her house and came here. My parents didn't speak to me much, and last I heard, they had found new partners and started new families so I guess I wouldn't have been missed much." The last part sounded bitter yet he betrayed no emotion in his face.

"Oh," was all she said. "How come you like flowers as much as you do?"

"Uh-uh," he said, wagging a reproving finger at her though smiling. "I'll answer that when you answer my question."

She sighed. Here goes nothing. "My mother remarried. He was a rich man but ill-tempered, and despised me. He had another daughter around my age and he felt as if I was a threat to her; apparently she did, too. Whenever I had misbehaved as a child, my stepfather would enter my room at the opportune moment a thunderstorm had begun and thrash me for my 'bad' deeds. We lived in a large house so my mother never heard – but the thunder covered up what he was doing. I learnt to hide under the bed as soon as I saw those accursed grey clouds roll across the sky, waiting, hoping that he would forget…" Lillian broke off as her voice cracked, fear flooding through her again. "After a while he would continue beating me for no reason – my bed hadn't been made, I spoke through their radio program, and so on. My mother never found out."

Cam stared at her, aghast, and disgusted that a grown man could do that to a child – or do that, full stop. It was a sickening thought, imagine a five-year old Lillian cowering, waiting for that large hand to make contact…

Lillian wasn't looking at him. Instead, she pulled at the grass, apparently unaware of what she was doing. "So, why do you like flowers so much?" she asked in a lighter yet firm tone, making it clear that he was not to pass comment about what she had told him, and that she didn't wish to discuss it further. She had told him, that was that, and he understood this straight away.

"When my grandmother became frailer and couldn't leave the house as much, she began showing me around her back garden. It was filled with the most beautiful flowers I had ever seen – some I had never heard of. She began teaching me about them, and flower arranging, and when she became too ill I took over caring for them."

"That's wonderful," said Lillian sincerely. She squeezed his hand. "You really loved her, didn't you?"

He nodded, a lump in his throat. "I used to joke that she was the only woman for me. I wasn't interested in girls much. She would laugh at that. Howard is nice; a strong father figure, and a lot better than mine ever was."

She leant her head against his shoulder. "We've sure found better lives here, haven't we?"

He looked down at her. "We sure have."

Their gaze met and their lips soon followed, kissing in the warm grass and hazy summer sun, until the first fat droplets fell from the sky.


	7. When I'm Ready

_A/N - thank you for the reviews! __warning:__ smut alert in this chapter. if this is not your thing then don't read on but i will change the rating of the story to M to be on the safe side. enjoy!_

**Chapter Seven**

Spending the night together had become a somewhat regular thing for Lillian and Cam. Since the day Lillian had told him a snippet of her past and the same day a thunderstorm brewed, they had taken to finding comfort in each other's arms and between blankets. It had become an unspoken agreement: the nights that bad weather were upon them, Cam would somehow find himself wandering to Lillian's farm, or she would turn up at Howard's café – much to the sincere delight of Howard and Laney. The two didn't seem to mind considering Lillian and Cam's relationship was entirely platonic.

For the moment.

The other villagers had caught on to their companionship and found it to be something rather pleasant, with the villagers often exchanging fond looks with whoever's company they were in, cooing as Cam and Lillian walked by. Ash fondly teased his best friend about it, glad that he could now spend time with the both of them, without either of them wanting to rip out each other's throats.

When Fall came around, and Lillian and Cam were raking leaves on the farm – which turned into a play fight, and in turn changed to kissing – Lillian found herself feeling different toward him. She looked into those jade green eyes that reminded her of deep forests and felt a surge of affection for him. Not love, but more of a let-me-rip-your-clothes-off kind of feeling. Of all the times they had shared a bed or a blanket, not once had they pursued desires that they thought the other may or may not have. Sometimes, she had found something rather hard and persistent pressing into the small of her back, but did not press the matter for the fear of making Cam feel awkward. Even though they felt increasingly more comfortable around each other, he was still shy a lot of the time, whereas Lillian felt as if she was coming out of her shell more. In truth, it was a relief to have found someone she could speak openly to. The best thing for her had been when he hadn't shied away when he discovered the dreadful fact about her stepfather. Even though that she had barely scratched the surface with her past, this snippet of information had made things easier.

Now, as the autumn wind howled outside and the pair lay squashed in Lillian's bed together, she turned to him.

"Cam," she murmured. He grunted to show he was listening. "Have you… ever thought that we should take our relationship to the next level…?"

He turned around so fast it was alarming. He steadied her as she clung to the bed. "What, you mean marriage?" he asked. There was definite panic in his voice.

"No!" she said hurriedly. "Not at all! I meant, physically." She blushed violently. It sounded stupid when she said it out loud.

"You mean sex." It was a bland statement. When he spoke again his voice was gentler. "You've thought about it?"

"Only recently," she admitted. "I feel… quite strongly about you, and when I'm with you, I get these… urges."

"I do, too," he murmured, "I didn't say anything because I wanted to wait until you were ready."

"You – you did?"

"Of course," he said and sounded mildly offended. "I care a lot for you, too, believe it or not."

"Oh." She paused. She had to be honest. "I'm a virgin, Cam."

"So am I," he said without a trace of embarrassment. "Good to get this out in the open now, eh?"

She mumbled her agreement. Silence fell upon them in the darkness. "So… what now?" she asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, I've never done this before, so, do you just…" She trailed off awkwardly.

"You want to do it _now_?" he asked, surprised.

"No, no, not if you'd rather we didn't," she replied quickly. "I mean, you're older than me, I thought you could take the reins, so to speak."

He snorted. "Two years isn't that much older."

"I suppose not." Another pause. "Let's wait then. All this talk has kind of killed the mood, actually."

"Agreed," he said. "Now let's go to sleep."

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her to his chest, both of them with smiles on their faces neither could see.

* * *

Cam felt elated as he went about working at his stall the next day. Jubilant, yet giddy, as he thought about his talk with Lillian a couple days previous. Here was a girl he cared about very much, and the girl he wanted to lose his virginity too. Words could not express how pleased he felt when she had stated she was finally ready. Of course, he would have waited twenty years if she wished to. For his birthday she had made him a glorious meal at her house, where she had led him blindfolded, and when the bandana was taken off he saw that she was dressed in a short, frilly dress that accentuated her curves and high heels adorned her feet. She had taken to dropping her fork a lot during their evening so that her assets became even more obvious over her neckline, and bending down near him so that her behind only just grazed his crotch or leg, so really, the clues were there all along.

One day, however, as Lillian fulfilled requests around town, Cam escaped from his stall an hour early and ducked inside the café. When she had entered the town hall he reappeared, carrying a large tray in hand, hurrying from the town centre and to her farm. As expected, her front door was unlocked, so slipped inside and set the tray down upon the table. Atop the tablecloth he set down various dishes, all her favourite: a corn soup for starters, lasagne with Howard's specially made garlic bread, and finally a cherry pie for dessert. Aside from the garlic bread, Cam had more or less successfully made the dishes himself. His chest swelled with pride as he looked over the ensemble, complete with a red rose laid across the table top and bottle of rose wine. He knew she loved roses, so tried to include them as much as possible.

His heart beat erratically as he waited for her. Anxious, yet excited, he paced the length of her house, very much eager for her to return. If they were going to this, then he was going to make it as romantic as possible, and he was going to do it properly. He wanted to surprise her and show that he could be spontaneous. He just hoped she wasn't disappointed.

Sometime later, the door knob turned slowly, and in walked Lillian with her dogs and cat at her heels. Momentarily distracted by Big Ben gambolling around her, she did a double take when finally saw Cam, allowing the pets to be let back outside again after they had made a fuss of her.

"Surprise," he said, smiling nervously.

"What's all this?" she asked in awe.

"I wanted to surprise you." He went over to her and took off her cardigan. He laid it over the back of a chair and allowed her to sit down before shimmying her under the table. "I made your favourite."

He began ladling soup into bowls, steam wafting around her nose, the tantalising smell of creamy corn causing her to salivate. She tried a spoonful; it was delicious.

"This is a lot better than the pudding you made for me," she told him with a cheeky wink.

"I've been practising. Here." Scooping lasagne onto a plate, he handed it over to her, accompanied by the garlic bread.

She moaned her appreciation. "This is so good."

He smiled, relieved. "Howard made the garlic bread. I can't take credit for that…"

She reached for his hand across the table. "It's wonderful – a really lovely thought, thank you."

The sincerity in her tone of voice made his stomach swoop. Trying to steady his shaking hand, he poured them both more rose wine, which they sipped in a pleasant silence. Lillian set her knife and fork down, feeling well-fed and peaceful.

"Allow me." Cam got up and placed their dirty dishes in the sink. "Do you want cherry pie now, or later?"

"Later," came Lillian's reply, patting her stomach. She sipped her drink. "Thank you again, Cam. And for the rose."

"You're welcome." Pleased that the evening had been a success so far, he planted a gentle kiss on her forehead, until suddenly she grabbed his tie and pulled him closer down onto her level, causing him to nearly topple over. He returned her kiss, their lips remaining together as she stood and placed her arms around his neck. She tasted like the wine they had been drinking: sweet and fruity yet ever so slightly dry. Cupping her behind with both his hands, he lifted her up in one swift movement. She anchored herself more by wrapping her legs around his waist. They began kissing with a raw desire, locked in a tight embrace, her hands through his hair and a tightening forming in his crotch. Steadily, he walked with as much care as he could to her bed, laying her down gently whilst he remained on top of her. Cam rested his body weight on his forearms so as not to squash her.

Lillian's teeth grazed his bottom lip, eliciting a sharp gasp from him, then ran her hands up and down his sides. His body was strong yet slim and agile, reminding her of a large cat. He moved sinuously, grinding his hips against hers, his hardness riding up her skirt.

"Cam, please," she gasped, resting her hands upon his chest. Her fingers teased the opening of his shirt, grazing the soft tuft of blond hair there.

Wordlessly, he nibbled her ear lobe, working his way down her neck to the base of her throat whilst he caressed the soft skin of her inner thigh. Her breath hitched in her throat and she stiffened slightly when his lightly touched the fabric of her underwear.

"Are you sure about this?" he whispered, halting his actions completely.

"More than anything," she breathed back. "I'm just nervous, that's all."

He didn't say anything. Of course, he was nervous too, but didn't want to let it show. Right now, he would go with his instincts.

He proceeded to graze the thin fabric of her underwear, feather light, as Lillian trailed kisses along his strong jawline. Light, like whispers. His hair tickled her face as he bowed his head, shivers rolling down his spine at her touch. Feeling marginally more confident, Cam pushed her panties to the side, touching at the moisture there. Lillian gasped, her blunt fingernails digging into his bicep when he inserted one digit. It was an initial sharp pain but became bearable. As she relaxed more, it became easier for him to slip in another finger, gently pulling them out and pushing them in again to allow Lillian to become accustomed to this new sensation.

"Is this okay?"

"Yes," she replied instantly. She began rolling her hips against his hand. She wanted – no, needed – to feel more friction. Anything.

As Cam picked up a slow yet divine rhythm, Lillian scrabbled at his trousers, clumsily undoing the button and zip and slipping her hand down his underwear. She gasped. He was at full hardness and rather an impressive length. Judging from his girth, it would be a tight fit – how on earth would that work out?

Admittedly, Lillian wished she had never felt Cam's erection, as fear flooded her stomach. Surely it couldn't fit. And trying to do so would probably tear her apart…

She didn't have much time to dwell on this, however, as Cam had quickly discarded his trousers and was already teasing her entrance with the head of his cock.

"Cam," she said sharply. Immediately, he stopped, and looked her in the eye. "Are you sure this can work? I mean, considering I've never done this before…"

"We can stop if you like," he told her seriously. "I'll wait for you."

"It's not that I don't want to." She struggled to find the right words. "You… are rather big, and… I'm just afraid of it hurting a lot."

He kissed her softly on the mouth. "We can do this another time, it's up to you."

She hesitated. Of course she wanted to have sex with Cam – on the other hand, she knew if she waited, she would be putting off the inevitable pain of losing her virginity forever, and at that rate she would never be with anyone.

"I do want to, really," she said at last. "Can… can you try and be as gentle as possible…?"

"I wouldn't have it any other way; this is supposed to be good for you, as well." With another kiss, he touched her sex again to elicit more moisture. Instantly, she fell back into the flow of things, keeping herself relaxed by watching Cam's face: flushed, with his eyes sparkling with desire. He caught her looking at him and smiled warmly, and she knew it would be okay. She felt the tip press her again and tried to keep herself from clamming up. Slowly, Cam eased himself in, watching Lillian's expression should she call for him to stop. Her brow scrunched up when she gasped, holding onto his arms to anchor herself, biting her lip as he pushed more of himself inside of her. Eventually, when he was all but inside save for an inch, her lip had turned a dark shade of red.

"Are you okay?" he whispered, concern in his voice.

"Yes," came a stiff reply. "I'm fine."

Finally, buried inside her, Lillian allowed herself to breathe steadily. The pain was sharp and she whimpered when he pulled out and eased himself back in again. Her body was learning to accommodate him, and the pain slowly evaporated as she began to grow accustomed to the fullness of him. As her whimpers dissolved into lustrous sighs, Cam pulled her dress from over her head and discarded it on the floor. For a moment he became still. His eyes feasted on her body, the full roundness of her breasts, and the curvature of her waist. From the beauty mark above her left breast, to the gooseflesh that had erupted over her arms at his touch, she was beautiful.

Lillian's hips bucked up to meet his, urging him to go faster; he obligingly did so, shudders of pleasure rolling down his spine as her mouth opened and wonderful, tantalising sounds came out. Sounds of bliss, louder now she had relaxed and allowed herself to enjoy the occasion more. Soon, she felt a tightening in her lower abdomen, and as alien as this feeling was, she did not want Cam to stop. Instead she wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him to go faster, until the feeling encroached itself upon her all the more. A sharp gasp stuck in her throat and she let out a loud moan as she reached her crescendo, the tight sensation releasing in her sex and pushing her over the edge. Her walls convulsed around his length as she came, and he finally slowed to a near complete stop to allow her to recuperate.

"That was…" she panted. There were no words. Instead, she smiled shyly at him.

He kissed her passionately on the mouth. "Shall I keep going?"

"Yes, please," Lillian replied eagerly.

With a smile, Cam began thrusting again. He knew now that he was not far from finishing either. His thrusts soon became hard and desperate, Lillian clawing desperately at his back, until finally his climax washed over him, spilling his seed and rendering him speechless. He flopped down next to Lillian, where she rested her head in the crook of his arm.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"What for?" he asked, confused.

"For being the person I got to share that with," came the simple reply.

He smiled and snaked his arm around her bare shoulders to bring her closer to him. A thin sheen of perspiration covered their bodies, a small coverlet over them for decency. He, too, was pleased he was able to share such an intimate experience with Lillian. She was beautiful, funny, fiery… Not for the first time, he caught himself wondering why he had such a problem with her at the beginning, before deciding it had been down to his own stupidity and pig-headedness.

After some time Lillian began to shiver. She threw the coverlet off her and reached across Cam to the floor where her underwear and dress had been discarded. In that blissful moment, she had forgotten until Cam spoke.

"Lillian," he said suddenly, "what are these scars on your back?"

He touched one gently with his finger but she pulled up from the floor immediately, clothes clutched in hand, a terrified expression on her face.

"Nothing," she said hurriedly, pulling on her dress.

"Obviously they are something." He frowned at her. He knew he shouldn't pry but was too concerned not to.

"I got beat worse than I let on, okay?" she snapped, glaring at him when she had made herself decent. "Just drop it."

Instantly, she regretted her harsh tone of voice. He cared; she knew that. After so many years of bottling up her past and her feelings it was difficult to let go of the pain. Even to talk about it made her relive the worst moments of her life.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, crawling across the bed to him and resting her head on his stomach.

"No, I am." He sighed. "I shouldn't have asked."

She kissed the spot just above his navel. "I'll tell you when I'm ready, okay?" she said, her voice gentler.

He nodded and smoothed her hair. It felt like silk against his fingertips. He lifted her chin with his index finger and leaned down to kiss her.

The cherry pie lay upon the table, forgotten.


	8. Dreams

_A/N - 2 updates in one day! hope you all enjoy and the previous chapter wasn't too much. _

**Chapter Eight**

_A little girl with russet pigtails walks into the kitchen where a woman is crying at the table. The kitchen is tiny, the table with only two chairs. It is clear that the family do not have a lot of money. _

_"Mommy," says the little girl, "what's wrong?" _

_The woman continues to sob hysterically. She pays no attention to the child. _

_"Mommy." The girl tugs her mother's sweater. "When's daddy coming home?" _

_"He's not." The woman faces her daughter but her voice is loud and rasping and unnatural. It lowers to an eerie timbre with a low bass that echoes around the room. "I'm your new daddy now." _

_The woman morphs into a man, ten times as tall and five times wide, and the kitchen vanishes, replaced with a tall, dark hallway lined with dim lanterns. The little girl screams and starts running, faster and faster, but the hallways just stretches out to be longer, the door on the other end getting further away. _

_"Don't run from me, Lilly," the man booms, his arms outstretched, "you know what happens to naughty girls, don't you?" _

_Doors that lined the corridor burst open and behind every one is a girl around Lillian's age, laughing and pointing, her face stretched into a grotesque smile. Her laughs mingle together to form an off-beat terrifying melody, like some sick travesty of a music box tune. _

_Lillian runs and runs, her legs beginning to seize up, tears streaming down her face. She is only eight years old. She's a good girl. Why does this man want to hurt her? His footsteps crash to the floor, making the ground shake. _

_Please, please, let there be an end to this hell…_

Lillian woke up in a cold sweat. She sat bolt upright and in her befuddled state only just registered Cam's presence next to her. Relief washed over her. She had half expected him to leave in the middle of the night after their sexual encounter, no longer interested in her now he had got what any young man wants. The fact that he had remained beside her as they fell asleep was comforting.

"Hey," he said softly.

He sat up next to her and wound his arms around her waist. His touch was like fire; hot and almost burning against her clammy skin, yet comforting. She knew just by his tone of voice and the way his lips rested against her bare shoulder that everything would be okay.

"Bad dream?"

Tears sprung to her eyes. She nodded wordlessly and his hold tightened. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to – his presence was enough.

"It was about my stepfather," she said hoarsely, choking back tears. "Always the same one; he's chasing me and I can't get away…"

"Shh." Cam held her close. "I promise I will never let anyone hurt you."

Cam couldn't often find the words he was looking for – but on the odd occasion he did, they were always the right ones.

* * *

Lillian had stopped staying with Cam at Howard's café.

Her dreams – or rather nightmares, for want of a better word – were overwhelming her, and becoming vivid to the point she would wake up, a scream tearing at her throat, calming down only when Cam's arms found their way around her shoulders and Big Ben pushed his wet nose against her thigh. She preferred to stay at home at night, now; that way, she was spared of whatever embarrassment the dreams would bring should she stay at the café. It would be unfair, also, for her to awake shouting every night, and waking up Howard and Laney when they had a full day of work ahead of them. So, Cam found himself at Lillian's most nights, holding her, rocking her. It broke his heart to see her like this.

"Do you know what might be triggering these nightmares?" he asked one day. He had begun making breakfast in Lillian's kitchen whilst she changed out of her nightdress. On any other occasion, he would watch her, enraptured by the gentle curves of her body. This display would usually result in them making love before she attended to the farm, and he to his flower stall. However this had not happened for some time; he was not as insensitive to initiate coitus, in relation to Lillian's stressful state of mind, but also because he had been losing out on sleep, too. The pair had permanent dark rings under their eyes, and Lillian a waxy complexion. No matter how many times he told her he cared for her, or that she was beautiful, she didn't believe him. He could not bring himself to say the 'L' word. Not yet.

"I don't know," she sighed, slipping her feet into her shoes. It took her a minute to realise they were on the wrong feet. Irritably, she swapped them, becoming increasingly more frustrated that her severe lack of sleep was deeming her unable to carry out simple everyday tasks. "I just know it was my mother's birthday the other day…"

She broke off and look horrified. Cam swung round to look at her.

"Was it? I never saw it marked on the calendar."

She opened and closed her mouth but no sounds came out. Shit; something else she probably should have mentioned. "She's dead," Lillian finally said flatly.

Now it was Cam's turn to become speechless. Why hadn't he known? How hadn't he asked more about her mother? But then he remembered her words: 'I'll tell you when I'm ready'. Had he been right not to pry?

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, bowing his head.

Lillian shrugged nonchalantly. "Partly the reason why I came here. She passed away a week before I left the city."

"Was she ill?" Cam asked, feeling it was acceptable to ask questions considering Lillian's casual tone of voice and demeanour. Maybe she had grown numb to it, much like he had with many things.

He set down a plate of eggs and toast and she dug in gratefully as he joined her. "Terminal. Doctor couldn't do anything. I left and didn't stay for the funeral." She spoke in a robotic monotone, as if she had trained herself to say this should anyone ask, or should she explain. A wall had been brought up. Her eyes held a glassy expression as she stared into nothingness, an arm reaching out for her orange juice, a hand bringing food to her mouth.

"Let me guess – you didn't stay because of your stepfather?"

Lillian nodded slowly. Seemingly coming out of her reverie, she wiped her plate clean. "Can you imagine what he would've done if I stayed? That mansion was a hell to me – home should be somewhere you feel safe. Not for me. I packed up, grabbed Pip and travelled far, far away from there. I didn't care about money. It was all his." Lillian carried their dishes to the sink. "I think I'll groom the animals today. It'll take my mind off things – don't you think?"

The drastic change in topic told him that he was not to ask any more questions for now. Nodding amicably, Cam stood and walked over to her at the sink. He wished that she would tell him everything at once, to get this off her mind. But he also had to appreciate how difficult was for her. He had a distinct feeling that her guard was still up, refusing to lower it, until she knew that she could trust him completely. Only time could make her see that.

He pecked her affectionately on the cheek. "I'll be back in the evening. Have a good day."

Cam departed, leaving Lillian to wash dishes, her heart full of an aching despair. She recalled how she had left the moment her mother had taken her last ragged breath. Dear, sweet Ann: once so beautiful and full of life, reduced to a mere husk of a person, her once-vibrant red hair a dreary grey, her thin skin hanging off her frail frame like tissue paper. The image still haunted Lillian – more so when coupled with the memory of not attending the funeral. That was why she had fallen of her horse. After days of travelling, tired and tormented by the cruel memory, Lillian had lost her concentration and nearly fell to her death.

She bowed her head over the bowl of washing up water and allowed the tears to fall, the salty droplets mingling with the mounds of suds on the surface.

* * *

"Lillian, we need to talk."

Hearing those five words drove fear into the pit of her stomach. Slowly, she raised her head from the plate of food she'd been toying with, looking Cam full in the face. He sat opposite her at the table in her house. He looked unusually solemn.

"You're breaking up with me," she state blandly.

"No," he said instantly. She merely raised her eyebrows, surprisingly unperturbed by this piece of good news. "These nightmares you're having…"

She groaned inwardly. For the past week, Cam had been trying to come up with reasons as to why the dreams were occurring, then getting her to drink camomile tea before bed or dripping lavender oil onto her pillow or adding rosehip to her bathwater – all in an effort to help her sleep more soundly. Needless to say, it had not worked.

"What now?" she prompted him, mildly irritated.

He overlooked her hostile tone. "I'm wondering if it's because you're feeling so much guilt over your mother."

"So?"

"So," Cam continued, "d'you – I mean only if you want – d'you think we should, ah, lay your mother's memory to rest…?

"And how are we going to manage that? Trek back to the city, dig her up again and re-bury her?" Lillian asked sarcastically. For the tenth night in a row, she had barely gotten more than three hours sleep and, on top of her excessive farming duties, her patience was not to be testing.

She could tell that Cam sensed this as he ploughed on valiantly. "Do you have anything of hers?"

Lillian frowned; not in an irritated way at Cam, but pensively, as she racked her brain. Then, steadily, she reached up and fiddled with something in her hair, before pulling out a single hair slide, and passed it to him across the table. He turned it in hand, inspecting it.

"I always wore it," Lillian explained, "and I was wearing it the night I left. I'd almost forgotten."

Cam ran his finger across the lily, along its petals and silver filigree from which it was made. It had been plated with gold to give it some sort of distinction on the petals. Mostly, it was unremarkable, and held signs of extensive wear. The silver length of the slide had become slightly tarnished.

"My father gave it to my mother whilst she was pregnant with me and they found out they were having a girl. He'd always call me his 'Little Lily', or 'Tiger Lily' sometimes. He said I had taken after my mother with my fiery streak." She gazed off into the distance again, seemingly at the pots hanging on a rack, unshed tears sparkling in her eyes.

Cam had remained quiet, watching her until now. He cupped her outstretched hand with his but she didn't seem to notice. "And this is the only thing you have of hers?"

Lillian snapped herself out of her trance. "Well, I have something else, too, which I swiped from my mother's dressing table. That stepsister of mine wasn't getting it," she added venomously.

Up high on the shelf was a small wooden box; dusty from its lack of handling and cleaning. Lillian stood on her tiptoes and pulled it down, setting it in front of Cam on the table.

"It had been in her family for generations. Of course," Lillian added, a sheepish look creeping onto her face, "my mother never formally gave it to me. She never really had chance, to be honest."

"May I?" Cam asked, waiting for permission. Obviously, this meant so much to Lillian, and he didn't wish to spoil it.

She nodded encouragingly, her arms draped around his shoulders. His stomach gave a sickening swoop at her touch. This was the first physical contact they had had in a while. It was then that he realised how much he had missed her warmth and the way a simple touch could make him feel. Gently, he opened the box lid, revealing a beautiful hair barrette. It was encrusted with sapphires and moonstones, adorned with many fanciful swirls.

"I always wanted to save it for when I was married," Lillian murmured, more to herself than Cam.

"Save it," he told her, closing the box. He picked up the lily hair slide. "I think we should bury this – it will serve as your mother. It's a part of her, passed down to you. We could make it into a real event, if you liked."

A single tear splashed onto the table top. "I'd like that. I could say what I would've said at her actual funeral."

"I think that's a great idea." Cam reached up to kiss the tip of her nose. She laughed weakly, and he found himself lost in the deep sea of her eyes.

"You've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?"

Truthfully, he had been, but had waited for the opportune moment to mention it. Seeing Lillian in this way tore at him – which meant a lot considering he only usually had tender feelings for cats and flowers.

"It was just an idea that came to me," he said casually.

She smiled gratefully and kissed him full on the mouth, trying to put unsaid feelings into the kiss. She thought he understood, for he entwined his hand in her thick hair, pulling her closer, tasting the saltiness of her tears as he tried to wash her troubles away.

"I just want it to be us two. You know – when it comes to…" Lillian broke off, a lump rising in her throat.

He nodded against the softness of her hair. "Whatever you like."

The day was humid with few clouds in the sky; a typical late-autumn day. Lillian was stood around a small, shallow hole that Cam had dug that morning, situated to the side of her house. In her hands was a piece of paper with a few words on, as well as the lily hair slide. She turned it over pensively in her hands, lost in thought, until Cam spoke.

"Shall I start?" he asked gently.

Lillian nodded. She had told him previously that day that she felt more at ease if he said his speech first. Willing to please her, he obliged; but what does one say about a deceased person they had never met? Nevertheless, he had to try.

He cleared his throat. "Dearest Ann: a woman I had never had the privilege to meet. I hope you are without pain, and in a happy place. Though you have left us, your memory remains."

Cam looked at Lillian and she gave him a small smile. Her eyes were pink from tears she had shed prior, though out of Cam's sights. Crying was the only thing she refused to do in front of him.

"Mother," she began, reading from the sheet of paper in her hands. "I'm deeply saddened by your passing. Although we didn't always see eye to eye, I knew that your love for me, your daughter, stretched beyond words. Seeing you so frail and helpless during your time of illness broke my heart. I am sorry I left before I could say a proper goodbye…" Lillian broke off, hot tears pricking the back of her eyes. She swallowed hard to dislodge the lump in her throat before carrying on. "I hope you forgive me and that you have found peace. I – I love you and miss you every day that I still breathe."

Taking deep breaths to calm herself, Lillian gently placed the hair slide in the hole, sprinkling dirt on top. She remained still for some time, before setting her speech down also in the grave. Cam laid a comforting hand on her shoulder and she swung round and burrowed her face into his chest.

"Shh," he soothed, stroking her back. Even though she refused to cry he knew he ought to still comfort her somewhat. "Maybe you should make yourself a cup of tea. You did a wonderful thing."

She nodded wordlessly and entered the house. Cam took his time tipping the dirt on top of the grave in order to give Lillian a moment alone. From his pocket he pulled out a single lily seed. He had procured it from a special order he had sent to the city. It hadn't come cheap – for it wasn't a local flower – but he hoped that Lillian would appreciate the thought behind it all the same. He buried it in the soft heap of dirt before watering it and following Lillian back into the house.

She had already curled up on the bed, her skirts ruffled around her knees, and with the most peaceful expression he had seen on her face for a long time. Smiling to himself, Cam covered her with a blanket. She stirred slightly but did not wake.

He knew now that Lillian would sleep easier after facing her worries and putting her mother to rest, and that her life would improve a lot more without the heavy guilt weighing her down.

Cam sat at the kitchen table with his mug of tea, silently flicking through a book on flower care, watching Lillian sleep. From watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest to the peachy skin of her face, in that moment, he knew that he loved her.


	9. Fear

_A/N - apologies for the huge delay between chapters! hopefully i'll have the next one up soon!_

**Chapter Nine**

Lillian's nightmares had stopped, much to her relief. Her complexion improved along with her mood; often she would sing to the chickens as she fed them. Cam, on the other hand, had taken a dive. He had faked his smiles whilst he was around Lillian, and in her new-found happiness, she had noticed nothing, but he knew that it would only be a matter of time before she picked up on his change in demeanour. Such a thing happened to occur a Saturday evening after the last cooking festival of the autumn. He had snapped suddenly when he had gotten his flower composition wrong for the third time. They had gone back to Howard's in order for him to continue with his work.

"Cam?" Lillian asked softly, poking her head round the spare room of the café. It had been renovated to encompass Cam's work material. "Is everything alright?"

"No," he snapped, not looking at her. He remained focused on his work.

She ignored his manner for once and entered the room. "Are you sure? You've been acting distant for some time."

"Lillian, I am fine," he said through gritted teeth. He cut off a piece of wire with his pliers.

"No, you're not." She leant against the wall. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No I don't want to bloody talk about it!" he said loudly. Instantly, he regretted raising his voice and sighed. He would have to tell her. She had asked and he could not avoid it any longer. Turning to face her, he looked uncharacteristically sombre. "This… thing we've got, this relationship we're in, I think… I think it's going all too fast for me."

She stared at him, dumfounded. "I beg your pardon?"

He sighed again and rubbed his temples. "Maybe you should sit down."

"I don't think so," she said with a snap in her voice like a mousetrap. "We'll talk about this right now, if that's what you want, but I'm sitting nowhere."

He should have expected her fiery attitude to flare up. He stood and crossed the room to her. Instinctively, he reached out to cup her hands, but she crossed her arms and glared at him.

"You know I love you, right?" he said softly.

She snorted. "Now I do. That's the first time you've ever said it."

_Shit_. Maybe he should have said it sooner.

"So, what, then?" she prompted him. "You love me yet our relationship is moving too fast for you? So, you got the sex you wanted, led me on for a little bit then decide to dump me? But it's okay right because you '_love_' me –"

"Stop it," he said sharply. "It's not like that at all."

"What is it like, then, Cam? Pray, tell me!"

"I'm scared!" he found himself shouting, resigned to her goading.

"What?" She was looking at him in shock, disbelief and anger, still. "Scared of _what_, exactly?"

"Scared of loving you, of losing you," he said, with an abrupt and unnerving return to his calm manner, in a way that evidently said he was giving up – giving up on fighting, on resisting. He had stopped running from the thing he had been initially afraid of, but now, love had brought even more fear. "I've told you this before; all the loss and heartbreak I've seen… it still haunts me, even though –" He broke off, emotion overwhelming him. "I can't bear to lose you," he finished simply. "I love you too much, and I don't think it's fair that I'm passing on my fears to you."

"But I love you too," Lillian said gently, cupping his chin in her delicate hand. "And I'm not going anywhere."

He managed a weak smile. "I just love you too much," he repeated. He took a deep breath. "That's why… I think it'd be better for us to break up."

She retracted her hand as if burned. "What?"

He sighed. "I want you to have a good chance at happiness with someone who isn't as bitter as me, someone who doesn't have all this negativity bringing them down. I don't want to hurt you."

"Yet you just have done," she spat, her words piercing his heart like shards of ice. "You love me so you're breaking up with me? What kind of fucked up logic is _that_?"

"The kind of logic that –"

She held up a hand. "Save it, Cam. I don't want to hear your bullshit reasons. If you love someone, as you have just said, you don't go hurting them, or ending the relationship. You make them happy, you cherish them!"

She turned on her heel to go but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back.

"Let go of me," she spat, trying to wrench out of his grasp.

"Hear me out," he pleaded. She continued to tug away but failed. "It's because I've had too much hurt and disappointment in my life and I don't want you to experience the same. I don't want to burden you, or taint our relationship with the bad things that have happened to me."

"Let go!" Lillian shouted now. He released her suddenly and she reeled back a few steps. She glared at him. "And if that's the case then some love in your life wouldn't go amiss! How can you let one or two bad experiences colour the rest of your life? What have I done that you could possible derive from that I think that you're a burden? Are you truly that obtuse?"

He said nothing, only ran a hand through his messy hair, unable to answer her questions. She was right – she was always right – but this had to be done. He had to be cruel to be kind. What if, somewhere down the line, she had fallen out of love with him? There was nothing worse than loving someone when they did not reciprocate your feelings; he knew that. Or, what if she was filled with regret about making her choice of life partner too quickly? He couldn't stand to see her live her life in misery, nor be selfish in order to make himself happy at the expense of her sorrow. Lillian's happiness was what mattered to him the most; and if she found it in the arms of someone else, someone purer, then so be it. The look in her eyes now broke his heart.

"I thought I made you happy?" Her tone had dropped an octave and had a pleading quality about it now, as if seeking reassurance.

He was silent for too long, grasping at unformed thoughts and words and phrases that whirled around his brain like debris in a storm. Lillian took one last unreadable look at him and fled from the café, slamming the door behind her. Cam looked on uselessly. He watched the best thing that had ever happened to him leave in a blur of skirts and sweet-smelling russet hair, a howl of despair clawing up inside him, trying to tell himself that he had done it for the best. For the sake of her, and for him.

He manifested his miserable feelings by banging both fists loudly on the counter, causing the wood to split. Cam felt inwardly thankful that Howard and Laney were out for the day.

Cam stormed back into his work room. He picked up the nearly complete bouquet of flowers and contemplated them for a moment before ripping the flower heads apart. Shreds of petals and leaves fell to the floor in a flurry of angry movements before Cam finally slid down the wall, succumbing to tears for the first time in his life. He watched the remnants of the flowers flutter forlornly to the ground, much like the shattered pieces of his heart.

The nightmares remained at bay but Lillian's sleep was becoming all the more restless. Through the night, she would reach out instinctively to Cam, before the crippling realisation hit her again and again: he wasn't there. He was gone. Gone from her life at the drop of a hat. Confusion welled up inside her day after day, always the same question: where did she go wrong?

Even though Cam had said it wasn't her fault, she still believed it as such. She rather believed that townsfolk offered her sympathetic looks, as if they knew. Then again, as Howard frequently roamed the town gossiping, they probably did. Lillian hadn't seen Cam for a few days after their breakup, and that suited her fine. She did not want to be constantly reminded of the affection she had held – and still did hold – for him. Dark rings had appeared under her eyes again. She tried to cover these up with makeup borrowed from Laney but she found the compressed powder too temperamental; the powder brush too fiddly. Eventually she gave up, and made her way into town as is.

Now that the tunnel had been reconstructed, locals from Konahona now frequented Bluebell, and vice versa. The change of faces was pleasant, and kept her distracted from being on the constant lookout for Cam.

"Hey, Lillian!"

In her dazed state, she had almost walked straight passed Kana, who had just exited the tunnel. He jogged over to her.

"How's it going?" he asked conversationally.

What a question! What should she say first? Heartbroken? Devastated? No – instead, she settled for, "I'm fine. Had better days."

"Looks like it," he said jokingly, nudging her with his elbow. His face fell slightly when she didn't respond. "Hey, seriously, what's wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she said flatly. Not with you, not with anyone, she thought to herself.

Kana contemplated her for a brief moment. "Boy trouble, huh?"

Lillian merely shrugged. Better to remain indifferent. The fact that he had hit the nail on the head didn't appear to surprise her at all.

"I'm sure it'll be alright," he said breezily. "You're such a catch – beautiful, funny, and you don't take shit. What's not to love?"

A small smile tugged at her lips. "Thanks, Kana. Anyway, I'd better get going, stuff to do…"

"Of course! You know where I am if you need me." He flashed her a charming smile before strolling toward Bluebell town centre. Lillian watched him go. Why couldn't she have gone for Kana instead? He was tall, handsome, laughed easily and came without a troubled past, which mean no complex principles or feelings. She wondered, had she had taken his advances more seriously, if it would be Kana she woke up to, if it'd be Kana holding her with his muscly arms…

Lillian shook her head to rid herself of such things. The thought of thinking about someone else in a sexual way made her feel physically sick. It was a foreign concept to her. After all she had with Cam, after she had given herself to him and grown to care for him, sex with another was far-fetched lunacy. Sighing to herself, Lillian crossed the cobbled ground of the town square and to the request board. She scoured it, looking for ones that involved items she had to hand. Right now, the last thing she wanted to do was go traipsing up and down the mountain. With another sigh, she turned away from the board, resigned to another day of a heavy heart and with nothing to take her mind off things.

Automatically, she glanced over at Cam's stall. It was open, and he was sat slumped over on a barrel, his head in his hands. Good, she thought savagely, he feels miserable too. It was a horrid thought, and Lillian felt sickened with herself, yet could not help the vehemence she held towards him, and the way her stomach swooped. She continued to look at him for a while and grew irritated when he wouldn't look back. Could he not feel her sharp gaze burning into him? Incensed, she stormed back in the direction of her farm, her skirts flapping wildly. Deep down, she knew that Cam was not aware of her appearance, but could not harbour the anger clawing up inside her. All she wanted, or rather needed, was for him to look at her, just once, in the tender way he always did, for her to know that it was not truly over, that he still loved her.

Glancing back, Lillian saw a sympathetic-looking Laney rest a hand on his shoulder. Even though Lillian knew that the girl meant nothing by it, she still could not repress the white hot rage that seemed to be emanating from every pore of her body. No one had comforted her – but, saying that, she did not need or want it. A couple days previously, Rose had offered a cup of milky tea and a chat, and Jessica had given her a finely spun ball of yarn from her farm's best sheep. The gifts were nice, with a lovely sentiment behind it, but Lillian had decline all invitation to 'chat'. To make polite small talk and then to stumble onto the subject of Cam was too much to bear.

Lillian entered her house and slammed the door harder than was necessary. Then, just for the sake of it and to release some of her hurt and anger, opened it and slammed it again. The interior of her house reminded her of nothing else but Cam: the table where he had presented her a romantic dinner; the bed where they had frequently made love; the books of which he thumbed through whilst she took a shower or cooked for them both, reading out snippets of information about flowers. Right now, Lillian couldn't face being in her bed, or even looking at it. Instead, she dragged a knitted throw from atop her bed and dragged it along the floor to the large sofa in the corner; there, she curled up into a ball and allowed the tears to flow, soaking the corduroy of the sofa.

She missed him more than anything, and it felt as if her heart was breaking, breaking, breaking.


	10. Hard Times

**Chapter Ten**

A day. Two days. Three days. A week.

Two weeks Lillian ploughed on valiantly, attending her crops and animals like there was no tomorrow. After her breakdown on the sofa in her home she vowed to pick herself up, dust herself down, and carry on with life. Naturally, she avoided going into town wherever possible, knowing that if she so much as saw Cam from a distance, then her efforts would have all been for nought. Although, her troubles were far from over when Ash came knocking one late evening.

Three loud knocks echoed through her house. Confused, and setting her book down on the coffee table, Lillian got up to answer it.

"Ash," she said, an element of surprise in her voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Just a chat," he said simply with a casual shrug, but Lillian knew different. There was no way Ash was calling at gone ten o'clock in the evening for a friendly talk.

"Please, come in." She held the door wider and Ash tipped his hat graciously.

He took his shoes off once inside and glanced around, a low whistle escaping his lips. "You've done this place up really nice."

"Thanks," she said with a smile. "Take a seat if you like."

Returning her smile, he made his way over to the sofa, where he sat down in the middle. Lillian sat beside him though left a reasonable amount of space between them. An awkward silence fell upon them for the first time since they had known each other. After a while, Lillian couldn't take it anymore.

"So… what's up?" she asked after clearing her throat. Somehow, she had already anticipated his answer.

"I won't beat about the bush," said Ash. He loosened the collar of his shirt. "Cam's in a bad way."

Without thinking, she snorted. "It's not exactly been a picnic for me, either."

"Of course not, no… I didn't mean…" Ash trailed off with the air of a man trying to keep the peace yet speak on behalf of his best friend. Lillian knew that he wasn't here to reprimand her but she bristled and became slightly on the defensive anyway.

"I appreciate what you're doing, Ash," said Lillian shortly. "But if you're here to talk about how Cam is feeling why couldn't here come here himself?"

"He – he doesn't know I'm here. And in all honesty, I think he'd be afraid of you knocking his head off anyway," Ash added.

Against the irritation she was now feeling, Lillian felt slightly amusement. "Well, I wouldn't hit him, no, but maybe shout a little bit."

Ash smiled and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. "Heh, I guess that would be more acceptable, then, considering…" He trailed off before clearing his throat. "If you want my opinion… I don't think he went about doing the right thing."

"Oh?" Lillian contemplated Ash with newly piqued interest.

"He's had a tough life," Ash said simply. "He thought he did the right thing for many reasons but I see the regret in his eyes every time I talk to him, and when I'm speaking and he's looking but not really seeing, and I know he's thinking about you."

"Has he said that?" she asked, her heart pounding.

"No," came the reply and her face fell. "But," Ash added, "he doesn't need to. He doesn't talk about his thoughts or feelings a lot, not even to me and I'm his best friend. Only I can tell."

"But we're not getting back together, and I doubt we'll even talk again," Lillian said blandly. She refused to get her hopes up. Even if what Ash was saying was true, it didn't mean anything until Cam said it himself.

"Give it time," said Ash bracingly. "He's a proud guy but –"

"I will not wait around on someone who won't come in person to talk about their feelings," she snapped. "I appreciate everything you've told me, but it's heart-breaking enough to see him and catch his eye, never mind getting my hopes up for something that might not even be true." She sighed and rubbed her temples. Her voice was softer when she spoke again. "I'm sorry, Ash. I want to hear all this from him, for us to talk – or maybe shout a bit on my part – and know that his heart is truly in it before I open myself to him or anyone again. I don't think I could take being hurt a second time."

Ash's brow crinkled in the middle. "I understand." He got to his feet. "I'm here if you need a friend, though."

She smiled warmly at him, the first real smile in days. Her face felt stiff when she did so. "Thank you. I'll see you out."

He held up his hands. "No need. I'm sure you could do with a good night's rest. I'll see you around."

He tipped his hat before exiting through the front door. He shrugged his jacket around himself to try and keep warm. Out in the dark, a figure was waiting for him.

"Well?"

"A no go. She didn't believe what the middle man said… better you try for yourself."

Cam groaned quietly as the two young men began walking back to the middle of town. "I just can't handle seeing the hurt in her face…"

"Well it was you that caused it," Ash told him seriously. "Listen, it'd be a lot better if you talked it out. I know you're not a big talker when it comes to your feelings," he added before his friend could interrupt him, "but you may have to lower your pride a little on this one. Lillian is a headstrong girl; we both know that. And you messed her up so now it's up to you to pick up the pieces. I did my best and it didn't work. The ball is in your court now."

They had arrived at Ash's house. He clapped Cam on the shoulder encouragingly.

Cam watched his friend go and then sighed heavily. How on earth could he fix this?

* * *

Ash's visit remained vivid in Lillian's mind over the next week. Now her emotions were running even more haywire – were that even possible – to the extent she tried to milk her alpaca. She desperately wanted to forget about Cam. Thinking about him made her chest ache. Her initial anger had slowly abated. On the one hand, this was good, as she didn't waste energy seething in silence, yet on the other hand, it allowed room to miss him more. She knew it was over. In her hearts of hearts, she knew it would be unwise to become hopeful. So, harvesting her crops that morning before the harsh winter weather began, Lillian made her way to Kana's shop in Konahona. Usually, she would go to Grady's, but as it was Friday, did not want to risk bumping into Cam on his day off.

"Morning, Lillian!" Kana called cheerfully as she entered his shop. He was currently filling up the food bowls of his many pets. "What can I do for you?"

"Just browsing. I want a friend for Big Ben – there's getting too many cows for him to herd, and he's a bit rough with the cat and the smaller dog…"

"Say no more." Kana flashed her a smile. "I've got this big guy here –" He broke off as a huge dog gambolled about the room and nearly knocked everything in the vicinity over.

"He's cute," Lillian smiled, bending down to scratch the dog behind its ears. "You're a good boy, aren't you?"

The dog wagged its tail erratically so it was only a blur.

"He's a bit boisterous but relatively well-behaved," Kana explained.

"I'll take him," Lillian said firmly. She passed over her money and tied a leash around the dog's neck. "Good boy, Zeke."

Kana looked on fondly. "So how's things with you, Lillian? Haven't seen you around for a while."

Her smile faded. "Well… I'm doing better. Yourself?"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Can't complain." He stretched and her eyes wandered across his broad shoulders and well-muscled arms. She looked away hastily before he caught her staring. "I've heard your farm is coming along well."

"Uh, y-yeah, it is," she said shyly. "I mean, it gets me by." She cleared her throat. "You could come by some time, see how it's doing…"

"That'd be great," he grinned. "And try some of that fresh milk I keep hearing everyone boast about?"

"Sure," she said. Suddenly, she felt dirty, traitorous, as if inviting Kana to her farm was going against some obligation she had made to Cam. But surely there was no harm in it – nearly everyone had been to visit her at some point. Convincing herself it was entirely innocent, she began to calm down. Until…

"So, Lillian; how would you like to go on a date with me?"

* * *

She wasn't at home. Where was she? He hadn't seen her in town all day.

Cam sighed and leant against the wooden slats of her house and closed his eyes. The heat of the late autumn day was quickly evaporating. He wondered whether to wait for her to come back, or leave, and keep trying.

He opened his eyes and looked down at his hand. There, clutched lightly in his fist, was a single blue rose, accompanied by a now slightly crumpled note. After watching the afternoon sun begin to set in the sky, he made up his mind.

Sweating slightly, he turned the door knob on the front door and entered Lillian's house.

* * *

A date. Date. With Kana.

Lillian walked briskly back through the tunnel and straight to her farm, his words ringing in her ears. Zeke ambled close behind her and barely made it through the front door before she shut it in her apparent distraction. Immediately, she sensed that something was wrong, a disequilibrium in her house. Standing stock still and glancing around warily, she found it: set upon the dining table was something blue. All thought of Kana flew from her mind. On close inspection she saw that it was a single blue rose with a note next to it. Her heart began to pound until she was sure it would burst out of her chest. Even without reading the note, she knew who the rose was from. For a moment she felt angry; angry that Cam had trespassed and entered her house without her permission, violating her privacy. But this soon evaporated when she read the six simple words scrawled hurriedly on the decrepit piece of paper.

_Meet me where we first met_

Giddy, she re-read the note several times over until she thought it had been embedded in her brain and burned on the backs of her eyelids. She glanced at the clock, the time telling her it was a little past four o'clock in the afternoon. Her instinctive reaction was to go, to see him, to fix all this mess… however was overrode by her strong desire to rebel – to go against being told what to do. Such was her personality, she felt spectacularly torn. She desperately wanted to meet him, to see his face and the small half-smirk he wore whenever he spoke to her, and to look deep into those green eyes that she had fallen in love with and bore his soul to her. Lillian's stomach knotted up as she thought about him and re-read the brief note. If she didn't go, she could lose him forever, and she did not relish the dull ache that persisted in her chest whenever she awoke at 2am and reached next to her to find the bed empty. Sighing, she carded a hand through her hair, running her fingers through the ends. In an irritable manner, she set about filling the kettle for a cup of tea; anything to keep herself busy. Once the kettle had boiled, she stewed green tea leaves, then added a spoonful of seasonal honey and sprig of mint. Automatically, Lillian glanced at the clock when the hand was a little past four thirty – it was if tar had been thrown on the clock hands: every second like a minute, every minute like an hour.

Resigned to the imminent boredom she would experience should she sit watching time go by, Lillian drained her cup and wandered over to her bed. With a great yawn and stretch, she collapsed atop her bed, fully-clothed, and proceeded to fall asleep.

* * *

It was late.

Lillian knew she had overslept from the way the pitch blackness outside pressed against the window panes and the knot that lay heavy in her stomach. Cursing, she leapt of her bed and pelted towards the door, pausing only to grab a jacket from the hat stand. Outside, cold bit at her face and her exposed hands, and near-frozen ground dug into her bare feet. She began running blindly, still befuddled with sleep, her heart pounding with overexertion and panic. Lillian pressed on valiantly, doing her best to ignore the burning in her chest.

Panting, and blinded by sweat and desperation, she hurtled through bushes to cut a corner and collided with someone on the lower mountain path. She reeled back from shock. Pushing her damp hair out of her face, she looked up.

"I didn't think you were coming," a choked voice whispered into the still night air.

"Me neither," was all Lillian could say in response. An amalgam of feelings rose to the surface: excitement, anger, love and sorrow, merging together into an undiscernible mess. She didn't know what she wanted to feel first.

"It's good to see you," Cam said.

Lillian said nothing. Part of her couldn't believe that he was right here in front of her, proof that he was real, what they had was real, rather than a distant memory that she had tried to forget.

"I made a promise to myself tonight," he continued, seemingly unperturbed by her silence, "that if you didn't come, I was going to leave… for good."

Her eyes glared at him through the gloom, speech returning to her. "What? Why? That's utterly ridiculous! How could you leave behind the life you have found here and the people who care about you so much? Think of how heartbroken Laney and Howard would be! All because of me? How do you think I could live with the guilt? Harvest Goddess!" she burst out savagely. "You are so selfish, Cam!"

"I know," he said quietly. He had allowed her to rant without interruption. She was right, after all. "I – I've been such a mess recently." Lillian gave a derisive snort, which he ignored. "Being without you was… torture. Like I had unwillingly given away half of my organs or something; I felt – I felt –" Cam broke off, words failing him. Empty, was the right word. Hollow, even, like a husk of a person, merely existing, going about his daily business. Everything he did became simple verbs with no other context or meaning: wake up, eat, sleep, work, shower. His precious flowers blurred into garish blotches of colour and his fingers bundled bouquets together automatically as if of their own accord. He desperately wanted to put this into words, but found he couldn't, that the lump that had risen in his throat prevented him from speaking.

Lillian's hand twitched, as if she would dearly love to cup his cheek, to tell him that everything would be fine, that she still loved him, but then all the hurt she had felt came drifting back. She could see how he was torn, running an exasperated hand through his hair and shifting his weight from foot to foot.

"Please say something," he whispered after a long time. It was almost desperate.

She sighed. "Fine. Let's talk out of the cold, though, shall we?"

"The café?"

"I'd rather not to return to the place where you dumped me and broke my heart," she replied harshly, beginning to walk back to the centre of town. She took a moment to glance at him and, through the slivers of moonlight through the trees, saw him wince at the harshness of her words. Cam didn't reply and continued to keep his head down and hands in his pockets until they reached the boundaries of her farm. He looked at her, to explain or to say something to break the silence, but she did not. Instead, she let herself into her house, Cam close behind. She indicated a chair at the kitchen table, which he took. For a moment, he very much looked like how he did when she first met him: impassive, his eyes unreadable, and a small crease between his eyebrows. Then, he met her gaze properly for the first time in a fortnight and he watched her wearily. Now she felt pity amongst her ire.

"I'm sorry," Cam finally said, breaking the silence. "I thought I was going it for the best… but that was selfish of me. I was thinking of myself."

Lillian nodded slowly. "Well, you've got that right, at least."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and his voice wavered when he spoke again. "I – I need you. You… made me the happiest I had been in a long time, and I don't want to lose you forever."

"You nearly did."

"I realise that."

She sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time that night. "This is getting us nowhere, Cam. What do you want me to do?"

"Say you forgive me." He smiled weakly at her. She almost laughed.

"I want to," she told him truthfully, her voice the softest yet. "But that won't eradicate the hurt. I look at you and I remember what we had, what we could have, but I'm scared, to be honest."

Cam stood and took a few steps towards her, concern on his face, which turned to hurt when she instinctively moved backwards.

"Don't," she pleaded, knowing that he itched to hold her and put the world to rights; but in doing that she knew that she would dissolve into tears and take him back. She wanted to, but needed to put this right. "I'm scared that you will leave me again."

"I won't," he whispered sincerely, "never again."

She shook her head. "I want to believe you – and I probably will, in time."

"Lillian –"

"Cam, please," she interrupted him irritably. "If… if we are to do this, then we are going to do this right."

He frowned, perplexed. "How do you mean?"

"As in…" She inhaled deeply, trying to find the correct words. "From the beginning: dating, and so on. Can you do that? For me? I need to know you are serious about this – and that I can trust you again."

A moment's pause. Of course he would do that for her. He would give her the moon if she so asked for it.

"Yes," he said finally. He advanced towards her, his heart beating rapidly, and to his relief she did not back away. Slowly, hesitantly, he enveloped her in his arms, breathing in that citrusy scent that he had so missed. "I'll start with 'sorry' again."

"That works," she mumbled, muffled against his chest.

"How many times do I have to say it?"

She looked up at him. "I'll let you know when you get there."


End file.
